


The devil you know

by Friggy



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Predators (2010), The Predator (2018), Yautja - Fandom
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Alien Technology, Aliens, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to you're not so bad to friends to i definitely don't think of you romantically to oops, F/M, Fear of Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Hunters & Hunting, Rites of Passage, Size Difference, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Xenomorphs (Alien), Xenophilia, Xenophobia, Yautja, trigger warning for mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 118,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friggy/pseuds/Friggy
Summary: Allison Cho has a boring desk-job and lives in a tiny apartment in Vancouver.Hiking in the forest is her way of finding adventure but what happens when more adventure than she ever bargained for tries to kill her?A/N:No Beta - please forgive the occasional goofsComments give me the doki-dokis so don't be shyMay change the rating later
Relationships: Predator series - Relationship, Predator/Human, Yautja (Predator)&Original Character(s), Yautja (Predator)/Original Character(s), Yautja (Predator)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 595
Kudos: 563





	1. Youngblood

It was an unusually warm early September afternoon. The heat of summer still lingered in the air and on her skin as Allison carefully pulled herself up the narrow ledge.   
There was a Cedar Waxwing family living in the trees not too far away from the main hiking trail.

She huffed quietly and crawled on the forest floor as stealthily as she could, sweat beading at her temple.  
Little flyway hairs had escaped the tight bun under her cap and stuck to her flushed skin, tickling the sides of her face.

She didn't worry about getting lost. She'd been exploring the forest for a long time - every other weekend for a couple of years now, when the weather was warm, Allison would drive the forty-odd minutes it took up to Mt. Seymour road to go hiking in the neighbouring area.  
She'd strayed further North than usual this time, between Mt Elsay and Bishop near a small waterfall. Having the Friday off from her stuffy desk-job had really made a difference to her wandering time.

She'd always been the outdoors-y type and enjoyed the burn after serious physical activity.  
If she didn't get to hike, she'd go play tennis or handball in a nearby court or do her more strenuous yoga poses at home (after thorough stretching of course).  
Just like her doodles, it was more of a hobby than anything, but it helped her after a long day or week being stuck behind a desk.  
And she'd always been a bit of a loner.

The forest was still her favorite.  
She looked forward to nightfall most, with a clear forecast she could fall asleep admiring the stars in solitude.

The little birds tweeted and chirped above her as she settled on a wide fallen treetrunk, laying her thick, puffy jacket down as a cushion and slipping her small sketchbook free from the backpack's outermost pocket.  
The jacket might have been too much for daytime, but once night fell she would need it. It wasn't cold enough that she would need a fire, so she'd taken it along - as bulky as it was.

The evening light was perfect. She began sketching the waxwings as they puffed and groomed themselves before sleep. She wasn't a particularly good artist, she'd be the first to admit that - but repetition and a passion for watching fat little birds go on with their day had helped round up her skills - at least when it came to feathered subjects.

Bird-watching had been her mom's hobby. Their mother-daughter camping trips during summer were where she'd developed her love for hiking.   
After her mother's untimely death, Allison always kept a little notebook full of doodles.  
Her mom had always laughed at Allie's silly sketches and encouraged her to do more.

She was smudging a mistake over as shading with her pinkie when a sudden, strong gust of wind immediately followed by an earth tremor shook the trees and a yell startled her, making all the birds fly away.  
Allison swore, she was in the middle of drawing one of them mid-yawn - their beaks looked deceptively small when shut but were comically large compared to their heads in reality

A donkey-like guffaw echoed from above, several other voices joining in, making a racket.

Damned tourists.

She'd been so focused on the birds she hadn't noticed the group of men that had trudged up several feet above her level on an even patch of rock. They must have come up the other side of the small incline, or through the ravine west of her. The sound of falling water and rustling leaves had been enough to muffle their steps.

She glanced over her shoulder. One of them had to have slipped and caused the others to laugh. She could see several figured helping a wobbly shape up.

So they were drunk too... _Awesome_.

Allison got up and dusted herself off, more out of frustration than a need to get clean. She shivered as the wind blew, yanking on the jacket. 

She'd have to find another place to spend the night, not in the mood to share space with a bunch of inhebrieted assholes.

"Helloooooo!" a masculine voice shouted from above.   
"Hey guuyyzz, I though you said -hic- no girls allowed!??" he continued, slurring.

"I'm just on my way." Allison said, raising her voice high enough to be heard. 

"Howdy, ma'am! We didn't know there was anyone else 'round here. Hope we didn't interrupt nothin'." another man with a thick southern american accent said as he neared the edge. It was getting darker by the minute, but Allison could see the glint of a rifle's nuzzle peeking up next to his shoulder.

Hunters then. A little early in the season, too close to the hiking trails to be any good at it.

Allison frowned.  
"You out hunting?" 

"Yes ma'am, takin' out my boys to show 'em the ropes. A man should know how to procure his own meal, yeah?" the older man smiled.  
The younger ones, his sons apparently, crowded around to stare at her. The drunkest and youngest one laid out on his belly, chin propped up on his hands and other two young men were flanking their father.

"Say, why don't you join us for dinner? We'll get the fire started," he kicked at the younger one, who scrambled up and disappeared - presumable to start the fire " - put on some fresh meat to cook… have a drink?" he shook a half-empty bottle of vodka at her (probably not the first judging by the glassy-eyed stares). It was the dirt-cheap, better used for cleaning mildew kind.

Allison resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Something about the guy didn't sit right with her. He was too friendly.

"I appreciate the offer but I've got people waiting for me." she lied. She'd go to one of the nearby official campsites, or cross to the other side of the trail.   
Hell there were rumors the military had a base further up North, even they were a better alternative.   
Last month, she'd talked to some of the rangers she was friendly with who complaining about armed men in camo scaring the wildlife and putting up fences where they had no business being.

"Aw, don't be that way. They can come join us too. There's enough meat for everybody!" the man said and helped the oldest son heft up two gutted, skinned and partially cut hindquarters. One large, one smaller. Deer.

They'd killed a fawn and doe. 

It wasn't illegal, as long as you had a permit, but it was usually in bad taste to kill female deer, especially when they were breeding and so early in the season.

"You got a doe permit?" Allie blurted out and immediately regretted it at the man's sharp squint.

"You some kinda' ranger?" the oldest son asked, tone absolutely devoid of his father's chipper disposition.

She froze while the three men gave her dirty looks, illuminated slowly by the growing fire behind them. She could now see they were all armed.

"I'll just be on my way." Allison repeated, trying to sound uncaring as she turned and shuffled down the incline.

"Now wait just a diddly darn minute!" the older man shoved the carcasses back at his sons and slid over the ledge, expertly navigating the thorny ground even in the fading light.

"I don't want any trouble." Allie turned to face him, bracing a hand against the tree next to her to keep from slipping back.

The man took another step towards her, opening his mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the most uearthly screech Allie had ever heard in her life.   
It was so strange and wrong, she could feel the hair at the nape of her neck stand on end.

The men looked as disturbed as her. 

They were all still while they listened, trying to hear where the awful sound was coming from, but the forest wasn't helping and whatever had made the horrible noise must have been moving too.

There was some distant rattling and another weird scheechy wail.

The wail trailed off and Allie could see everyone's shoulders lower in relief with hers once it stopped.

The group looked around, alert.  
Some primal part of them recognizing the danger, for no one dared move or utter a word.  
  
For a while nothing happened, Allie's heart thumped less and less loudly in her ears with every moment of silence.

The group of humans waited for another few minutes, heads swivelling every now and then to listen for strange noises.

Allie almost believed it was all over when a low hiss had them all hunching again.

The older man unslung his rifle from his back and checked the ammo then pulled the safety, muzzle carrefully pointed down but ready.  
His sons copied his movements almost at the same time.

"Sammy, Cole, stick with Junior and keep watch. I did not like the sound of that one bit…" the older man said.  
"Listen here missy, I think you're better off sticking around just in case. Name's Jeremiah by the by."

"A-Allison." she replied automatically.  
"What the hell was that?"

"Ain't no deer, that's for sure." Sammy or Cole said. She assumed Junior was the teenager hiding behind his older brothers.

"A coyote?" Junior asked.

"You ever heard a fucking coyote hiss like that?" 

"Language, Samuel." Jeremiah snapped.

Sammuel, the broadest of the bunch, only grunted back his regret but Jeremiah was already walking away to the side, laying low by the fallen treetrunk she'd used as a bench just a few hours ago.

Allie took the opportunity to zip up her jacket and make sure the laces of her hiking boots were tied up properly, then she adjusted her backpack, thankful she'd packed light.

If she had to make a run for it, she could abandon it. Her small wallet, carkeys with a compass keychain, her PLB, a foldable pocketknife, her phone and a small flask of water were always on her person.

The wallet and keys were clipped safely to her belt and stuffed in her large pants pockets and the locator was hanging around her neck.  
  
The pack had sunscreen, a map of the area, an extra set of underwear, socks and a shirt, a large thermos filled with tea, enough snacks to keep her going for two more days (if she rationed) - all carefully wrapped, a tiny first-aid kit and matches.   
The impermeable tarp rolled and pinned on top completed her gear. She'd taken it more as a precaution, the weather forecast was clear this weekend.

And of course, a few toiletries and a roll of toilet paper.  
_Never_ forget the toilet paper.

The pack also held her sketchbook and she remembered putting her library card in there too, she was supposed to pick up Gemma on the way back tomorrow.

Her neighbour and friend worked that weekend. If anything happened - Gemma was the only one who knew her whereabouts... although… Allie had never mentioned straying so far from her usual hikes.

She regretted not taking her moms old flaregun. She might have been able to use it as a distraction at the very least.

Jeremiah was silent where he lay low.  
Allie took the chance to shift away, trying not to rustle any of the fallen leaves.   
A twig broke under her boot and Jeremiah eyed her like she was stupid.

"Listen-" he started.

There was another low hiss and a rustle in the distance and Allie's head whipped around to stare into the forest. The sound had come from their other side. As if whatever it was had circled them.

The fire threw strange shadows over the younger men. The crackle and pop of the logs and the distant spray of the waterfall were the only sounds except for their combined panicked breathing.

Strange. Even at night the forest carried the sounds of its inhabitants. Something had spooked all the animals away.

Jeremiah noisily got up and turned to face the faded hissing as Junior climbed down. Jeremiah grumbled at his youngest but patted him on the shoulder in an unexpected show of paternal care.

"You two stay up there and keep watch, ya hear? I'll go take a look. Junior, you stick with the lady." Jeremiah ordered. The other two brought their rifles up but Junior made to grab at his father.

"Pa, are you sure you should go in alone? Maybe we should stick together, call for help..." the boy pleaded.  
Up close Allie could see how young he really was, couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Jeremiah shook his head. "No cell reception out here." he said, not even bothering to check his phone. It was true though, Allie had wanted to send Gemma a picture of a pretty flower in the morning but there was no signal.

"I could send an SOS…" Allie said while fumbling for her PLB.

Jeremiah, who had walked up to her while she fished for the little device stuffed down the front of her shirt, snatched it out of her hands, pulling on the string and her along with it.

"Hey!" Allison shouted, trying to take it back.  
Jeremiah's other hand flashed silver and the taunt cord was cut away from her. Then he pushed her away by the shoulder and she fell on her ass, probably bruising it.  
"What the hell!? Give it back!"

"Lets not get hasty now. No need to stir up a fuss for some strange sounds. Promise I'll give this back in the mornin' hon. When we're far away." he cooed at her.

"Pa, I don't think…" 

"Shut it. We already got enough warnings. You wanna get me arrested?" Jeremiah snapped at Junior while inspecting the device in the weak, flickering firelight.

"Plus, it don't even work. Look. Dead as a doornail." he turned the display towards her as she pushed herself back up.  
Allie's mouth hung dumbly open as she saw for herself.

"Impossible! It's good for at least five years and I only had it for two. I never had to use it before and it was fine this morning!" Allie made another grab for the locator. Jeremiah let her take it, making a dismissive shooing motion with his hand.

  
"You city folk and your expensive toys. Think you're better than us, huh?"

"What does that have to do with _anything_? Are we just gonna sit here and wait for Bigfoot to eat us?" Allie screeched.   
She stuffed the PLB into her pocket and checked her phone.   
It was dead too.  
Shit.

Jeremiah cackled and his sons tentatively joined in.   
"Bigfoot, she says! Ha! How bout it boys? Think killing it will make us famous?" 

Allie mouthed some choice swears while Jeremiah continued ahead, rifle at the ready. Junior sidled up to her, surreptitiously checking his own phone while his old man wasn't paying attention. His wouldn't turn on no matter how long he pressed the on/off button, just like hers.

The other two young men stood back to back, keeping a careful eye on the forest on both sides.

"We need to get out of here." she whispered at Junior.  
The boy shook his head and unslung his own rifle. She could see a pistol holster hanging at his belt. How many weapons did these guys even have?  
"No ma'am, we got a good spot here and enough ammo to kill three bears twice over." he muttered back, sounding as though he was trying to convince himself more than her.

"Oy, the heck do you reckon this is?" Jeremiah yelled from where he was crouching at a thick tree's roots.

Allison picked her way across to him, Junior close enough on her heels that he bumped into her when she stopped.

Jeremiah was poking a stick into something goopy. Strings of clear, sticky fluid stretching out as he pulled it up.

"Is that… snot?" Allison asked.

"Awful lot of it too." Jeremiah pointed around where more goop had pooled.  
He poked the leaves with his stick more and grumbled. "Did any y'all throw burning coal out here?" he turned to eye his other two sons dubiously, who shook their heads in unison.

There was a soft plink and a hissing noise. Something yellow-green had landed on Junior's shoulder where he was crouching by his father.  
Not one second later he was howling in pain, struggling to take his thick leather jacket off.  
"Getitoffgetitoff!!" he wailed as he threw the garment away.

Jeremiah was struggling with him, yelling at him to sit still while the boy sobbed.

Allie backed away and her pack hit another tree behind her.   
Something wet dripped on her cap.  
She reflexively reached up to touch it and sighed in relief when she saw that it was just the clear snot. 

Then she made the mistake of looking up.

Allison's scream caught in her throat.  
Her mind whirled with denial at the enormity of the thing.

Way up in the canopy, a dark, skeletal shiny shape hung from the branches. She could see the light from the fire dance over its slimy looking skin.

It was slim, but long.  
The head was a weird banana shape and there were tubes coming out of its back.  
It had no eyes.

The tail was wrapped tightly around a branch while what looked like hands and feet were braced against other branches on spindly limbs.

There was something goopy and clear hanging from what could only be the mouth and there were two long yellow-green slashes and a couple if punctures marring its side over where ribs on a human would be.

It took her a second to take everything in and the only thing her stupid brain could come up with in response was 'That's not Bigfoot.' (Or Yeti, or the Abominable Snowman... or hell - even Mothman)

Her mouth started moving on its own to voice the very thought but all that came out was a wheezy "That-"

She hadn't noticed the other two had stopped struggling, staring up just as another drop of yellow fell from its side.

Allie scrambled away before the blood (for what else could it be?) hit the ground and hissed as it ate the leaves. (Was that _acid_? How did it bleed acid?!)  
  
At the same time the creature screeched and dropped, partially landing on Jeremiah and slashing at her backpack as she tried to run.   
The older man screamed in pain as his son called for his father and the other two shouted at him to get out of their shots.

Allison hit the clasp over her chest and slipped free of the straps, leaving the creature to shred the pack to pieces and throw the contents about like confetti.

She stumbled over a root and crawled on all fours, dropping her phone in the process.  
  
The black thing screeched again as shots rang out and Allison dived to the side behind a thick trunk, afraid of getting nailed by accident.

She covered her ears when the inhuman screams were joined by very human ones that sounded a lot like Jeremiah had gotten the same treatment her pack had.

Allison felt the bitter taste of bile come up her throat and swallowed back what remained of her lunch. Getting sick now was a fast way to die.

The gunshots stopped and she steeled herself to take a peek.

Jeremiah had stopped screaming and lay in a heap by the roots. The creature was keeping Junior between it and his brothers while they were hurriedly reloading.  
Junior's arms trembled as he pointed his empty rifle at it and fruitlessly pulled the trigger.  
The gun clicked repeatedly, he was out of ammo.

The monster crouched. Allison's hands crept over the uneven ground and before she knew what she was doing, she'd thrown a fist-sized rock at the things back.  
It hit it at the top of its banana head and Allie saw it pause then slowly turn towards her.

She was frozen on the spot as the creature leaped back towards her and whipped its tail at Junior in the process, making him gurgle a scream.  
It didn't get far. Sammy and Cole had reloaded and shot it in the back.  
Yellow sprayed out of it as it screeched again and darted to the side, zig-zagging over the forest floor then effortlessly climbing a sturdy tree before Allie had time to will her feet to move.

The young men kept firing at it as it went up, missing most of the shots.

The monster disappeared in the dark canopy as if by magic.  
Cole and Sammy were reloading their rifles again, keeping their eyes trained above them for any movement.

Allie crawled over to where Junior had been knocked back.   
He was still breathing. Barely.

There was a gaping slash opening the flesh of his belly up from his left hipbone all the way to his right pectoral. Allie tried to focus on his face and not the entrails slipping out.  
He was babbling something but it was too quiet for her to hear.

Feeling like scum, she reached for his belt and slowly unclipped the pistol from its holster, taking the safety off. It was heavier than it looked.

Before she could retreat, his hand shot out and grabbed her free one. He weakly spat out blood and whimpered " _Please_ …"

Allie couldn't understand the rest of his words and the sudden screaming caught her attention, making her wrench her hand away from the dying boy.

The monster had come back, creeping low on the ground and taking Cole's feet out from under him.   
Sammy shot at it, screaming, while it slashed his brother's throat only to leap on him next as his rifle clicked empty.

Allie watched in horror as the creature pinned the man down and opened its mouth full of crystaline teeth only for a long tongue full of more teeth to come out and puncture his forehead like it was butter.  
She didn't even have presence of mind to bring up the pistol. Just stood there and watched like an idiot.

The dark thing huffed. Its body was riddled with yellow wounds, but it was by no means down.

It crawled toward her and Allie's body finally caught up. She sprung into a a dead run, sidestepping two reedy trees growing closely together in a 'V' shape and dropping the gun as her shoulder hit one. She could hear the thing come after her on all fours.

It was faster than her.

Allison kept running anyway, grabbing onto a tree to swing herself out of the way just as the thing made a jump for her. She swore she could feel the wind from its claws whistle by her head as she turned herself around.

It fell in a heap and Allie twisted out of the way of a clumsy strike from its tail, the tip catching on her puffy jacket and ripping into it with ease.  
It could have gutted her like it did Junior…

The creature hissed.  
Allie didn't know if these thing could even get tired, but it looked like it was struggling to breathe.  
She was pretty winded herself.

It gathered its limbs under it and Allie could tell by now it was preparing to leap.

She turned and dove between the twin trunks that had grown together, tripping over something that clatterd in front of her and falling face-first to eat some dirt.   
She turned around, she could hear Junior wheezing a few feet away.

The tubes on the monster's back were too wide to fit through the small gap, though its shoulders were narrow enough.

It huffed tiredly again, and pushed the thin treetrunks away with its spindly hands. They bent and cracked and the thing crawled towards her.

Allie scrambled on all fours. 

Her hand fell onto something cold and metallic.

She brought the gun up, aiming at its head and emptied the clip.

The pistol clicked repeatedly in her shaky hand.

The creature hissed and advanced once more, she'd pissed it off more than anything.

There were a few measly yellow scratches on its head.  
The bullets had merely grazed the dark skin.

Allie whimpered and closed her eyes.

There was a soft snickt and the hiss of acid blood hitting the forest floor again. That sound would stay with her forever.

Allie opened her eyes just as the monster's head slid from its neck falling to her right, while the body slid to her left with a muted, heavy thump.

She backed away from the spreading pool of acid and her eyes caught a flickering right next to the elongated head.

Allison's gaze slowly trailed up the strange armored shins that were materializing before her eyes.

She caught a glimpse of metal sheeted skirt like a gladiator's (and were those fishnets?) a muscled torso and another monster head clipped on a thick metal belt before her eyes fixed on the giant menacing mask with a high, domed forehead and the long dark spikes that might have been hair if a follicle were size of both her thumbs put together.

The man (was it a man?) was huge.   
Broad and tall.   
Close to seven feet with biceps the size of her thighs, sculped abdomen and chest covered in that strange skimpy mesh slashed with six fresh looking scars cutting most of his front open diagonally and puckered little circles running along his exposed arm and thigh.   
His skin looked strange too. 

The man clicked and she almost jumped out of her skin.

Her overworked brain wouldn't quit - no man, no _human_ anyway, sounded like that.


	2. First (and last)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For easier reading, alien dialogue is marked with <<*growly stuff here*>> and English with "*human stuff here*"

Hul'gkan had almost lost the trail.

The whole trial had been a mess from start to finish.

The blasted oomans who'd survived the serpent attack had attempted to capture him and he'd been forced to deal with them before finishing his chiva.

He and his hunt brothers had been sent on this backwater planet the oomans called home to resolve their meddling with ancient ritual grounds. 

Elder Iktaha'rg, his former teacher, one of the Wardens of this planet and the observer of this chiva, had suggested he and three other Youngbloods prove themselves and solve a potential outbreak of serpents.

The foolish oomans had found remnants of the ancient pyramid under these mountains and had fallen victim to the last surviving serpent eggs inside it.   
Elder Iktaha'rg had been keeping an eye on their findings and had called for the chiva just before the serpents had a chance to reach z'skvy-de.

He and his hunt brothers (if he could even call them that after their many mistakes) were selected and immediately sent from the Jag'd'dja atoll they were stationed at. The short journey from the clan mothership had been spent in meditation by him and excited training by the others.

They were all dead now. The chiva was good at weeding out the weak that way.  
If only he'd been allowed to go with Thei'dteinou several spans ago as he was supposed to… he wouldn't have had to deal with these selfish idiots failing.

He couldn't get ahead of himself just yet, though. He had to stay smart. Find the last kainde amedha and end it. Earn not one, but two th'syra for his collection. 

Two of his allied hunters had killed a serpent each - one ended up killed by his prey, the other stabbed by a third serpent that had been cleverly hiding above them in the poorly constructed ooman ventilation system.   
The third hunter had simply been gutted by their escaped prey, only managing to score its side.

Hul'gkan did not regret their deaths. The fools had left him behind to deal with his own prey in adition to a group of armed oomans. He had succeeded against even bigger odds, despite the others underestimating him for his smaller stature. He was content.

Hul'gkan had been forced to remotely activate one of his dead comrades gauntlets, which had triggered the others, to clean up the mess left behind and bury any evidence of yaut'ja presence quickly.  
The resulting energy wave should have been enough to knock out and corrupt any other primitive storage technology, in case anyone had escaped the underground facility.

The explosion had also flushed out his remaining prey.   
He had chased and fought it again before more of the pauk-de apes came to muck things up again, shooting at him and the serpent, attempting to capture them both. As if they had even a fraction of a chance.

The kiande amedha had slipped his grasp while he was distracted, but not before he had scored a deep wound in its side.   
Unlike his dead hunt-brother, he had stabbed it almost fully through rather than just scratch it. Its screech had been delightful.

Dealing with the oomans had taken more time than he had expected and he hadn't even had time to pause and take a trophy or two (he was allowed, Elder had said, as long as the oomans striked first and fought passably well).

Hul'gkan had lingered only long enough to seal his most dire wounds, the gouges on his chest from the hardmeat and some punctures from the ooman weapons, then immediately resumed tracking.  
He would have to take care of his precious armor later. Perhaps if he brought her kiande amedha teeth he could persuade his bearer to upgrade it for him.

This serpent must have been smarter than the others, for it had managed to hide traces of its passing enough so that Hul'gkan had been compelled to backtrack twice.

It was fortunate the Black Hunter had seen fit to throw him a boon in the form of gunshots echoing distantly in the forest.  
The kiande amedha must have decided to hunt for itself and regain strength - and its pyode prey was fighting back.

The Youngblood raced through the thick dto, leaping from tree to tree to make up the distance faster, cycling through vision modes untill he saw the bloom of fire and scented the coppery tang of ooman blood in the air.

He descended, bypassing the dead oomans and approaching silently from the side while the last survivor uselessly wasted its projectile weapon on the serpents tough forehead.  
He sliced the head clean off with a decisive strike, aggrieved that he could not claim the kill fully.   
The oomans had done considerable damage to his quarry before they had been picked off.

Perhaps he would harvest some if the other bones, the tail maybe, and some of the burning thwei for his Blooding. Definitely the teeth and claws.

The last ooman stared up at him dumbly, its strange helmet obscuring most of its features with the wide, curved brim. He did not bother scanning it, it was obviously unarmed since it hadn't used anything else to defend itself from the serpent.

Hul'gkan heard the pitiful whimpers of one of the soft things behind him. He turned from the trembling ooman and crouched over another survivor.  
It seemed young and in obvious pain.   
It had fought well enough, he supposed. Lasted longer than his weakest hunt bothers from the looks of it, but had no way to end itself.

Hul'gkan had won his chiva, he would receive the marking when the Elder came to judge his deeds. He could afford a small gesture to ease the suffering of another.  
The pup was done for either way. Not even yaut'ja medicine could save it now.  
Hul'gkan shook his blades free of any remaining serpent blood and sunk them in the pups head. Its death was instant. Painless.

<<H'chack.>> he said. 

There was another soft sound behind him. The remaining ooman's breath left it all at once with a pathetic little whine of distress.

<<What do you say, Elder?>> he then asked, tone carefully neutral.

The large shape of Elder Iktaha'rg shifted in his peripheral and de-cloaked.  
He would not admit to noticing the old hunter so late and swore to himself to be more mindful in the future.   
No doubt this was the Elder's intention all along, but he would not give his old mentor the satisfaction of knowing just how much he'd had Hul'gkan fooled. 

<<A small honor you have given, Youngblood.>> the Elder said. <<May it be repayed onto you on your last hunt, if it turns sour.>>

<<None shall take my life but myself, Elder. >> he boasted. He was certain of it too, when his dhi'ki-de was near, he would make damn sure to send himself to Cetanu's door - as fitting of a true sain'ja.  
<<And I am a Youngblood no longer.>> he corrected, gesturing at the serpent head strapped to his utility belt and turning towards the larger warrior to show off.   
He hadn't had a chance to properly clean it yet and had used a special mesh and sealant gel to be certain none of the acid dripped on him.  
<<Will you honor me with the marking of our clan, Elder?>>

Iktaha'rg clicked in amusement as he bent to slowly cut a digit off the serpent, careful not to spill any of the toxic thwei on his own skin.  
Hul'gkan tilted his head curiously.

<<All in due time.>> the Elder hummed at the back of his throat, barely suppressing more laughter.

<<Have I offended or failed in some way?>> Hul'gkan asked impatiently. He knew too well of the old warrior's bad habit of teasing.   
He'd been on the receiving end of these so called jokes plenty of times before and had grown tolerant of his former teacher's strange moods. 

<<No.>> Iktaha'rg clicked again while examining the serpent digit as though it were an object of great interest. Hul'gkan's gaze still drew to the bony finger, despite knowing it was exactly what the other yaut'ja wanted.   
Sometimes it was better to simply wait for the old man to have his fun.   
The chiva was won. Not even Iktaha'rg's paltry jokes could stall his right to officially join the clan as a sain'ja forever. 

Hul'gkan had been denied a chiva multiple times before, the latest instance a direct result of his teacher's meddling.   
For a long time he had been resentful. He should have known the sly Elder had wanted to test him more than the others and had waited for an opportunity to allow his best student to prove himself beyond all doubt.

Now he had won a particularly difficult challenge, defeating not only the kiande amedha, but trained and armed oomans - a notoriously clever prey, whereas his unworthy hunt brothers had died, their names lost to obscurity beneath ruins.

And he'd hidden all the discovered proof of yaut'ja presence on this planet in the process - practically by himself. A more than worthy mission even for a Blooded warrior.

<<Then why…>> he started forcefully once his deliberation was done. He was more than worthy according to the code of honor.

<<Won't you finish your kv'var first?>> the Elder asked with another series of clicks, a rumbling chuckle humming deep in his wide chest.

The young warrior remained confused for another second before his tresses whipped about his shoulders as he turned to look at the last surviving ooman.

It was gone.

Hul'gkan roared his frustration, knowing the soft-meat would hear him - wanting it to fear him for the slight.  
He could not allow any witnesses to walk away. It was forbidden.

He managed not to shout or swear at Iktaha'rg in anger. It would not end well for him. 

The ooman would regret delaying his Blooding.

\----------

Allison had been gaping at the strange new creature as it regarded the dead monster.

  
Her eyes remained glued to it when it turned and walked over to Junior.   
She could only watch as it killed him, bile rising in her throat at the sickening crunch of bone as the thing jerked its blade in the poor boy's forehead.

At least it was quick.

It was then that another shape flickered into being.   
Allison felt her stomach drop somewhere in the vicinity of her ass - this one was even bigger and fiercer looking than the first one. With graying spikes coming out of his shoulders, elbows and along his arms and legs in addition to the long ones growing from his head - he made for an imposing figure.  
This one had a multitude of elaborate decorations on his tubular hair that shined and twinkled in the low light whereas the first one had none.

There was something wrong with their feet too, but it was too dark to really tell.

Was this some weird monster-hunting party? Did Big Dad bring his kid out for some fun? Was the black thing some kind of game?

Her head hurt.  
And her ass and knees and scraped palms. She wished she was back home in bed or cuddling Pumpkin at the window seat with a nice book, or taking a long hot bubble-bath with a glass of wine or bothering Gemma with more nerdy shit. Anywhere but here.

Allison shook her head as the idea took root.  
The things weren't even looking at her. She'd been ignored this whole time and they were busy chittering and growling at each other now. 

The stars and moon provided enough light for her to see by.  
She was painfully aware of her surroundings as she took her first tentative step back. Then another one, and another - bolder.   
She turned on her toes on a bit of soft ground, focusing on the forest floor to avoid crunching leaves or stepping on twigs.  
Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears she was half afraid they could hear it too.

Allie scuttled over the cold ground, not looking back.   
She got further and further away from the strange creatures, sliding down inclines while holding onto thick clumps of bushes, hurrying as much as she dared towards the sounds of rushing water.

Maybe she could lose them by crossing the river - then, if she went downstream enough, she'd probably find other people.  
Once she found people, maybe they'd just leave her alone.  
The instinct to find a large group and get lost in the herd was beating against her bones like the drums of an ancient song.

The prospect of bringing two huge, dangerous not-man things into a camp of innocents wasn't as important to her in the moment as surviving.   
Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew it was selfish. Maybe even cruel.  
It didn't matter.  
All she cared about now was herself.

The sudden angry souding roar had her kicking up dirt in her haste to run.   
She hadn't sprinted this hard since the handball regionals in highschool and terror was a hell of a motivator to go even faster.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

So stupid of her to think she could get away so easily.

She sobbed as she clipped a tree, no longer careful where she stepped and fell down an incline, tucking herself into a ball at the last moment.

She kept going for what felt like forever. Hitting rocks that dug into her sides and back painfully, getting scratched and bruised to hell.

She finally snagged a thorny bush that helped her slow down enough that she could stop.

She was dizzy. Everything hurt.

She lay there, face to the ground as she caught her breath.   
Tested her fingers and toes.   
Flexed the muscles of her arms and legs to check that nothing was broken.  
  
She turned on her back, heaving a deep sigh that only hurt a little.   
She'd cracked a rib falling like that when she was young. It had hurt a lot worse. She'd been lucky this time.

There were tears stinging the corners of her eyes and a scream was working its way up her throat. This was all so fucked up, it barely felt real.

She choked back another sob. She needed to be silent.

Allison groaned as she slowly got up on shaky legs and hung onto the rough bark of a nearby tree, trying to calm her breathing - counting the seconds on the inhale and exhaling a little bit longer. She did so for the span of a few breaths until she was reasonably certain she wouldn't burst into hysteria, then looked behind her. 

She'd left a trail of disturbed earth and broken branches even she could follow and she'd never hunted a day in her life.  
She was sure they could find her - everything about these things screamed top of the food-chain, best-of-the-best hunters. They could probably cover more ground running since they were so much taller and looked like the fucking Hulk with spikes and pewter masks.

Allison tried to think through the haze of fear, trying to come up with something, anything, that would buy her more time.  
Her hand went up to scratch at her scalp - her hair was half-loose and tickling the back of her neck.

  
She took of her sweaty cap off, damp, dirty hair falling around her shoulders - then had an idea.

Allie felt around for a rock to wrap the cap around in and with all her might threw it in the opposite direction she was headed for. Then she tromped around, leaving broken branches and footprints that pointed in several directions.

Once that was done, she picked her way along the forest floor again, stepping on rocks and fallen treetrunks wherever she could, trying not to leave fresh footprints or break any thin branches to give her away.

When she was far enough, she broke out running again, the sound of water like a beacon.

\----------

Hul'gkan grumbled under his face-plate as he tracked the blasted ape.  
He should have netted it when he'd had the chance.

It had looked so useless and dumb, frozen to the spot in fear. So unworthy of notice he hadn't even bothered to keep it in his sightlines - assuming such a weak, clumsy creature would surely draw attention to itself if it moved.  
The other oomans he'd killed hadn't been nearly as stealthy and had simply come out shooting the moment they were close.

He examined his surroundings for clues. He'd found a general direction and quietly padded after the minute tracks left behind. The little thing had been clever enough not to leave too many, but its caution wasn't perfect - it was clearly inexperienced.

He could sense Iktaha'rg lurking close, sometimes spotting the telltale glimmer of his cloaked form in the canopy. The Elder was enjoying his conundrum and as such had decided to follow the hunt rather than wait for the young warrior to finish.

Hul'gkan finally found the spot his roar had caught the little ape unaware, dirt and leaves left upturned as it had run for its life only to fall and roll downhill.

He followed the tracks. Sliding on his heels to where the primitive had crushed the most vegetation when it had invariably stopped falling.

Iktaha'rg landed near him, revealing himself and gesturing at Hul'gkan to continue his search while the Elder answered a call.  
Strange to be disturbed during a chiva. Must have been important.

Hul'gkan clicked his glee at the mess of tracks. He wasn't far now.  
He could tell the ooman had attempted to confuse him. It wouldn't work, there was the distinct smell of fear-sweat permeating the air.  
He followed it only to find the useless damp textile helmet, discarded.

The young hunter tried to find more tracks, crouching low to the ground in an attempt to scent out a path if visual cues were missing. He cycled through the vision modes on his helmet but except for the mess behind him, he could find no other signs of the ooman's passing.  
He almost wanted to send for his old hound, but then the hunt would be unfair. No honor would be gained with such an advantage.

  
Hul'gkan growled at his own failure. How could it simply disappear… he couldn't even pinpoint any sounds of movement due to the constant thrum of rushing water nearby...

He stood up straight and broke out into a run.   
How could he be so foolish as to fall for such an easy trick!  
  
He cursed as he passed by a surprised Iktaha'rg, who sidestepped out of the way of the younger ones stampede while still conversing inside of his ornate helmet.  
Hul'gkan's strong legs and feet tore at the ground, no longer concerned with keeping his presence hidden.  
If the ooman crossed the river, he may lose it for good. 

A yaut'ja running at full speed was faster than some ooman vehicles, even with the trees as obstacles - and Hul'gkan was especially quick. All his life so far had been spent in training. In fighting oponents bigger and stronger than him.  
He'd had to compensate for his stature with wit and swiftness. 

He knew he was being considered for the role of hult'ah on several clan-ships, provided he passed his chiva.  
He would not let a failed kv'var stain his hard-earned reputation.  
Hul'gkan growled low in his throat at the very thought. 

The rush of water was close to deafening. He understood the primitives intent, but its time had run out. Cleverness could only get one so far.

He saw movement ahead of him, his visor set to pick up color contrast and movement. He saw the ooman's stained yellow garment stand out, flashing between trees as it ran (pitifully slow).  
He pivoted with a grunt, using a tree to swing left and scratching the bark off with his claws, and followed the soft thing to a small clearing where the dirt gave way to sediment and rocks. The roar of the waterfall was barely covering the sounds of his prey's labored breathing.

Hul'gkan slowed as he stepped away from the cover of trees.  
The ooman had miscalculated. There was nowhere to cross the river and it stood, trembling and afraid, on a rocky ledge just above where the water broke and fell in a steady torrent.

It was a perfect warm target surrounded by cool mist.  
He clicked in amusement. It had been a worthy enough hunt. Its skull would join his other, lesser trophies together with the serpent's head. He might even earn the regard of a female or two - although siring a pup probably wasn't within his prospects (or anyone else's) any time soon.

<<Sy'ua-de.>> he ordered.

The primitive stood frozen in fear again. Watching him with those big prey eyes, uncomprehending.

He'd forgotten these things didn't speak right.

He took a step forward.

The ape took another smaller step back and looked behind it.

Hul'gkan didn't want it accidentally falling and bashing its fragile head open. He initiated the language pack on his wristguard and spoke his command again.

\----------

"Surrender." a robotic voice said. It had the same deep quality as the big thing did when it had growled at her, but no inflection. Strange to think it had been speaking to her in its own language.

Allison shook her head in denial, pebbles falling into nothing behind her as she shifted on her feet.  
She had hoped to go further upriver, try and cross there but she'd heard thundering footsteps behind her and had simply run as fast as she could away from the sounds of pursuit.

Her legs and lungs were burning with fatigue whereas the giant beast wasn't even winded.  
This was all so _unfair_! When the hell did her peaceful hike turn into a bad horror movie?!

The thing took another step towards her, the wide eyes of the mask flashing green. Then another step when it saw her stay still.

Allison swallowed thickly at the blades sliding out of its metallic gauntlet.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would kill her when it got close enough to reach her. The sort of instinctive certainty that made her next action feel less crazy.

If she was going to die, she might as well choose it.  
A bitter little part of her wanted to do it out of spite too.

Allie took a deep breath, turned, and jumped.

\----------

Hul'gkan readied his blades. The little primitive had offered good sport. It deserved a swift and painless death. He would take the head and let the body be claimed by the wilderness.

He did not expect it to look so calm.   
Some of the warriors he'd ended before the serpent escaped him had even attempted to beg for their lives.  
In a way, it was admirable that this one would face its death in such a dignified manner. It seemed oomans were as surprising and varied as the rumors had claimed.

His regard faded when he saw it turn its back to him.

 _Such disrespect!_ he thought, offended. 

And then it leapt off the ledge.

Hul'gkan blinked in surprise behind his helmet.  
Heard the annoying clicking laugh behind him and rushed to the rocky ledge.

The cold mist and water had covered any trace.

The laughter grew deeper which only spurred him on.  
He would not let it escape him. Not now! Not when it had been in his grasp!

Hul'gkan roared in frustration and followed his prey, taking momentary satisfaction in his teacher's disbelieving growl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> chiva = trial
> 
> z'skvy-de = chest-bursting phase of a xenomorph's life cycle
> 
> Jag'd'dja atoll = Mother Ship
> 
> kainde amedha = hard meat/xenomorph
> 
> th'syra = skull
> 
> pauk-de = fucking/fucker (expletive)
> 
> pyode = soft  
> pyode amedha = soft meat (usually when referring to humans)  
> ooman = slang for human
> 
> dto = forest/jungle/big gathering of trees
> 
> h'chack = mercy
> 
> dhi'ki-de = death/the forever sleep
> 
> Cetanu/The Black Hunter = deity - god of death
> 
> sain'ja = warrior
> 
> yaut'ja = predator species
> 
> kv'var = hunt
> 
> hult'ah = scout/observer
> 
> sy'ua-de = (you) surrender
> 
> \----
> 
> Hul'gkan - one of keen senses
> 
> Iktaha'rg - executioner/one who brings doom/cataclysm
> 
> Thei'dteinou - death's messenger/death bringer
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N: I love having the opportunity to name characters ridiculous things like "Death Bringer" and have it be completely canon lmao


	3. Kill of the night

Allison hit the water like a stone. She'd rolled up into a tight ball as she fell through the cold vapors, clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut.

The fall was surprisingly short but the impact still stunned her, arms and legs splaying out as she flailed in the water.  
The current was so strong it pulled her under while she struggled. She couldn't tell which way was up, couldn't see, couldn't breathe and dared not open her mouth.   
Some air escaped through her nose as she tried to push out the water.

Miraculously, she didn't clip any big rocks or hit the bottom.

She let herself be carried by the current untill it abated enough that she could let herself float topside.

Barely twenty seconds after going in (although it had felt like much longer), her head finally broke the surface - lungs burning, gasping for air and coughing as water splashed in her face making her swallow most of it.

She flailed some more, trying to make it to the left-side bank, hoping she'd lost the big creatures behind on the other side.

Allison dragged herself up the muddy bank, using a stray piece of splintered wood to dig in and pull herself out. She tore a nail on the rocks but the pain hardly registered.  
Her teeth were chattering, she was so cold there was barely any blood oozing out from her tiny wound.

She knew she needed to get out of her sopping wet clothes, she'd lost her jacket somewhere along the way too.  
That was probably a good thing since it would only have dragged her down.  
The downside was that her PLB had been lost with it. There was no chance of checking if it was working again to call for help. Her phone was long gone too. And her little flask of water.

She was so tired and cold her eyes were closing as she lay in the mud.   
But she knew if she slept it would be for the last time.

So she crawled on her front out of the mud and onto the sandy bank like some primordial fish using her hands and knees, collapsing facedown into smooth pebbles to cough up more water and empty her stomach.

She heaved untill she tasted bile and the violent cramps in her belly finally subsided.

Allison took another deep breath and got her knees under her, pushing herself up and standing on jelly legs.

She peeled off her shirt and the cami as she wobbled up the bank, away from the river and into the forest once more.  
She was caked in mud from head to toe with or without clothes.

Her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness that the moon's weak light and the spattering of stars was enough to help her spot a hollowed out old treetrunk.

She took off the rest off her clothes and wrung them out then hung them on some branches and left her boots out on a rock.

  
She kept the clip with her wallet and keys with her. The last pieces of her belongings that had survived the ordeal only because they were tied to her thick cargo pants by a little metal chain and secured in one of the larger pockets.  
If she made it through the night and got home they deserved a good review online, she thought idly. Strong material. Trusty pockets. Something like that.

She had enough energy to gather some dry leaves and moss to toss in the hollow trunk, then crawled in and balled herself up to conserve warmth. She hadn't taken off her wet underwear - some part of her refusing to turn completely feral.

She was exhausted. If that creep found her she'd be a sitting duck but walking was impossible in her current state.

As soon as she closed her eyes she was out. 

\----------

When morning came, Allison was snoring.  
A persistent fly kept trying to land on her face and she finally roused after slapping herself silly.  
She squinted in the light and saw little birds chirping and drinking from a shallow pool of water just ahead of her.

Cedar Waxwings.

Allie snorted. She knew it wasn't their fault, but she'd never be able to look at this particular species of birds without associating them with the worst night of her life.

She was going to take a nice long break from hiking, camping and being in nature in general for a good long while. If she felt the need for fresh air she'd go to the goddamn dog park.  
No way in hell was she risking anything like this clusterfuck ever again.

She groggily got up and out of her tiny hollow, leaves and moss stuck in her disgustingly dirty and stinky hair. There was even a bigish leaf in her underwear. Ick.

How she wished for her clean change of clothes.   
Although, on second thought they were probably shredded to little pieces.

She shuddered and picked up her now dry old clothes. They were crusty with mud and she shook them out before pulling them on, wincing at every bruise and scrape.  
Her boots were still a little moist but she wouldn't risk walking through the forest without them.

Finger-combing her hair proved more of a hassle than she had expected, so she just tied up the clump with her dirty band and clipped her wallet and keys safely on belt-loop again.

She was very thirsty but had no clean water available. Her stomach rumbled ominously at the memory of all the gross dark water she'd vomited last night.

She was still tired too, although the solid three or four hours of sleep had done her good, the uncomfortable position she'd been laying in left her with a crick in her neck and a sore everything.

Allison lightly slapped her cheeks to focus. She wouldn't die of dehydration yet, she wasn't cold and nodding off anymore. All she had to do was keep going downstream and get to one of the big campsites. She thought she recognized a couple of rock formations on this side of the river, hopefully someone would give her a ride back to Mt. Seymour where she'd parked her car.  
  
It would take her the better part of the day and she couldn't start calling for help, she was sure those things were still out there. 

In fact, it was best she got moving in case they were searching along the river.

\----------

Hul'gkan snapped another search command at his hound.

After shamefully fishing himself out of the turbulent river he had attempted to find signs of his prey but the water had swallowed it completely.

Iktaha'rg had lost his mirth once the young warrior had resurfaced and accepted Hul'gkan's request that the old hunting hound be brought down.  
The Elder clearly thought the ooman gone, but Hul'gkan was unconvinced. It had proven itself adept enough at surviving. 

He could feel it in his bones - his prey had gotten away - _for now_.

The hound, and later his armor, had been gifted to him by his bearer - an awu'asa s'he'ei of great mastery. Hul'gkan had never felt any shame in receiving the advantages of being his bearer's last-born.  
The honored wei-ghe'h had been unable to conceive since him, a matter which grieved many yaut'ja women with increasing frequency in recent spans.

The hound grumbled in submission and set about sniffing the ground again. Its sense of smell was ten times stronger than that of a yaut'ja - who were the perfect hunters, attuned to every sense.   
It would find his prey, if it sniffed out enough clues to point him in the right direction.

Hul'gkan followed his pet uphill, there was nothing it could glean from the river, or the crash site, so he was having it retrace the primitive's steps to the beginning.

Iktaha'rg had disposed of the butchered ooman bodies and the unharvested parts of the hard-meat already but had left everything else untouched. The Elder watched, his stance pensive, as the hound pointed out every one of his prey's belongings to his master.  
Hul'gkan dutifully gathered everything up and set about analyzing them once the hound had stopped searching and settled at his feet.

<<You truly believe your prey alive then?>> Iktaha'rg asked, rubbing at the skin of his throat under his collar where an old scar sometimes itched.  
Hul'gkan had heard various re-tellings of that scar's history from third parties several times. None matched.

<<I can _feel_ it, Elder.>> he answered respectfully without looking up from his task. He had already dismissed the textile garments as useless to him.

Iktaha'rg rumbled deep in his chest, tapping a sharp claw on his muscular thigh.

<<Why do you ask?>> Hul'gkan found himself querying as he examined the foul-scented food-stuffs he'd unwrapped.  
Pah! These primitives ate garbage!

<<There has been… a request.>> Iktaha'rg said. Something in the Elder's tone made Hul'gkan look up, interest piqued.  
<<The Clan Leader relayed a message - a healthy, living female specimen, preferably strong and intelligent is required for testing.>>

Hul'gkan frowned under his helmet. What did that have to do with his prey?

As if reading his thoughts Iktaha'rg clicked a short laugh and shook his big head.  
<<Don't you think your prey, provided she survived intact enough, would be a good specimen?>> he asked as Hul'gkan straightened.

Hul'gkan had not even thought of it as a 'her' untill now. The clothing had been too concealing to tell and he'd never bothered to scan her - another mistake he would not repeat.  
All the females he'd known were clever. Even if this particular one was only a pe-ghwie, it had a knack for escaping.

If deemed unworthy he could still use it to sharpen his hunting skills. Perhaps he could make use of it even after the tests were done - he would ask she survive the process... 

Yes, he would have to analyze the task further, make his own demands clear.   
Most hunters didn't bother mincing words - to their own detriment.  
Hul'gkan had learned the power of misspoken words and unclear agreements from his clever bearer.

Bringing a requested prize back to the Homeworld after winning his chiva and a tricky kv'var would greatly increase his honor too.  
It would be a pity not to mount another worthy skull on his wall but perhaps she would prove deserving of the sacrifice.

The young hunter hummed in consideration.

<<Tell me, _Youngblood_.>> Iktaha'rg teased again, making Hul'gkan growl and inciting his hound to raise its big bony head at the perceived danger.  
<<What do you do when you cannot find where your prey has run off to?>>

Hul'gkan pushed more of the ooman's belongings aside, its communication device might have been useful, had it not been crushed and half melted beyond recovery by the acid thwei of the serpent, and picked up the tiny flat and heatless plastic square he'd been eyeing before the Elder interrupted his search. He cycled vision modes untill he could see the writing and the minute face inscribed on it.  
He knew oomans were creatures of habit.

<<I find their hunting grounds and their lair.>> he said as the language pack automatically translated the dark scribbles to his eyeplate interface.

\----------

Music blasted from her car's speakers as Allison drove home. She'd never been this happy to be alive before. It was true that near-death experiences changed ones outlook on life.   
In her case, she was now more convinced than ever that hunting was the most atrocious sport and was considering becoming a vegetarian.  
She'd lucked out and found a rangers cabin around 4pm, the nice woman had given her water and some dry biscuits to munch on while she took Allie to her parking spot.

Explaining what had happened to her had felt a little wrong. Allison had told most of the truth - the part about falling in the river, being carried downstream and losing all her stuff, then sleeping in a hollowed out log - but had carefully avoided any mention of everything else.

She couldn't exactly tell the well-meaning ranger about the monsters in the forest. Allie barely believed _herself_.

She felt most guilty about Jeremiah and his sons.   
Sure, they might have been assholes and poachers but no one deserved to die like that. 

She had tried not to think too hard on anything before the river. She hadn't wanted to start bawling like a little kid in front of a stranger.

She wondered if she could even get therapy for this.

Allison passed the bridge and entered Vancouver through McGill street, she'd be late picking up Gemma but only by half an hour.   
Her phone would have been buzzing with messages if she'd still had it.

Passing by all the familiar places felt a little surreal, like she was dreaming. Like none of this was hers anymore.  
It was all so… _normal_.

After her ordeal, normal was strange.

Allie parked in front of her favorite little library. It was where she'd met Gemma for the first time three years ago.  
Neither of them had known they lived barely five feet across from each other in twin flats.   
It was later in that first week when Pumpkin, the old alley cat who Allison had befriended, jumped across the emergency escape stairs to Gemma's window sill as she was coming home from work.

The two women had become fast friends, co-parenting the fat old cat and sharing their evenings.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?" Gemma shrilled next to the passenger side just as Allison was unhooking her safety belt.  
"Holy fucking shit, are you ok?!"

Gemma opened the door and got in, bombarding Allie with "You look like you got mauled by a bear! _Did_ you get mauled by a bear? Why are you so _crusty_? Your poor _hair_!" before she had a chance to open her mouth.

For someone even more introverted and quiet than Allie herself, Gemma could be quite the chatterbox when she wanted to.

Allison grabbed her friend's hands as they were reaching for the bird's nest on her head.

"I'm okay, I just took a bad fall. Hey, can I use your phone?"

"Sure..."

Allison tapped in her team leader's number, Mark was a good man, he would understand her need for another day off and maybe even let her work from home on Tuesday. As a single dad he often had to take time off from work to take care of his young daughter. He'd handle Larry, the asshole manager, for her too if she asked.

Once she was done, she gave Gemma her phone back and drove them both home.

Not unexpectedly, Gemma followed her upstairs. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, her friend grabbed her shoulder to turn her around.

"Let me take a look at you. Jesus, you look like shit."

"Thanks."

"I'll draw up a bath, go… throw those clothes in the trash. You hungry?" Gemma asked as she flitted about Allison's small apartment, turning on the hot water to fill up her bathtub then crossing to her small kitchen to look in her fridge. 

"Ravenous. But I think I need something light. Kind of barfed up all my insides last night." Allison said, feeling dizzy both with relief and hunger.

"Soup it is then."

She left Gemma to her task, tiredly peeling her crusty clothes off again and dumping them on the floor. She'd handle it later.

She paused to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She really did look as though she'd been mauled by a bear.  
There were scratches all over the hands and forearms. Her torso and back were basically a giant bruise.  
Her legs hadn't escaped without their own share of scrapes and bruises either and her knees looked raw.

After disinfecting the flesh left over from her broken nail, she eased herself into the half-full bathtub, wincing with every inch of battered skin.  
The soak was delicious, warming her up to the bones and loosening all the dirt on her. By the time she was done the water was brown.   
She'd washed her hair too, teasing out the clumps and even cutting off some of the unsalvageable parts. It'd look a little funky but she had thick hair like her mom, she'd cover it up.

Gemma helped her bandage the worst of the scrapes and apply a cooling gel to her back, hissing and tutting at her battered body like a mother hen. 

The soup was the best part of her evening. She had to pace herself even though all she wanted to do was gulp every drop down in one go. 

Gemma was uncharacteristically subdued, only talking about her day and all the mundane annoyances at work, her failed date from yesterday and pining over the new receptionist from the hotel across the street. Her name was Amber and she had 'the most beautiful smile'.  
Gemma had always been a romantic.

How odd to think her friend had been going through all these normal, safe things while Allison had been running for her life.

"-ey. Earth to Allie!" Gemma snapped her fingers in front her face and Allison's eyes refocused.  
"I've been trying to get you for a while. You were miles away…"

"I'm sorry." Allison ducked her head. "I was spacing out."

Gemma gathered up the blanket they were both cuddled under and grabbed her hands, careful of her bandaged finger and so, so gentle - as though expecting her to break.  
"Honey… you still haven't said anything about what happened... And no more 'I fell' bullshit. I know you, you're too careful to let that happen."

"I-" something caught in her throat and Allie's face crumpled. She couldn't…

"It's t-true what I said about… falling but… there's more."  
She swallowed thickly and looked into her friend's wide eyes.  
"Y-esterday evening I was… I went off-course - up North. There were these men and…" her voice broke remembering their mangled bodies.

"I-I'm sorry, I just… I can't t-talk about it r-right now."

The tears in Gemma's eyes spilled over and Allison found herself pulled into a tight hug. Her ribs protested but she clung on like her life depended on it.

"I'm sorry, you don't have to talk about it. I'm just worried about you. I hate seeing you hurt."  
Gemma's shoulders trembled as Allie pulled herself closer at her friend's gentle "Come here."

Allison's grip on her emotions finally slipped, safe in her friend's embrace she cried herself hoarse.   
It was ugly and loud and full of snot, but Gemma held onto her through it all, quietly shushing her and petting her still-damp and messy hair.  
"Shhh-shhh it's okay, I've got you." she would say while gently rocking them both back and forth.

She cried and cried untill there were no more tears, both of them ended up with puffy eyelids and red noses.   
They laughed at each others supid faces and cleaned themselves up.

Gemma offered to stay the night but Allison knew her friend had an early morning so she insisted Gemma go back to her place and rest.   
Pumpkin had appeared, either drawn in by the racket or the smell of their left-overs and sat on his tail by the kitchen window. Maybe he'd keep her company tonight if she gave him some of his favorite salmon snacks.

Allison drew the fluffy feline in and wished Gemma goodnight. Then fed the old tomcat while petting his soft orange fur.

She tried watching the news, Pumpkin purring in her lap, to see if there was any mention of Jeremiah and his sons, but all that was reported was a car accident a little further up the map from where she'd almost died.   
An old couple and their son-in-law had skidded off the road due to an unexpected rockslide.   
She wondered if it had anything to do with that earthquake just before everything went to hell.

It was midnight by the time she was done puttering around the house and the cat ran ahead to her bed, coiling up like a little cinnamon roll before she even got under the covers.

\----------

There was darkness and fire.

A hiss.

The slither of something wet.

The coppery scent of blood mixed with something wrong.

Little needle teeth shining in the firelight like crystals.

A big black maw opening wider and wider and wider as she screeched and ran.

The snapping of jaws at her heels.

The distinct sound of a body hitting the earth and the smell of chemical burns.

Clicking and growls. So _close_. 

A big domed helmet emerging from the night, shining with reflected starlight rushed her. Double blades speeding right at -

Allison woke choking back a scream. She had to be silent so they wouldn't hear. 

Her heart beat so fast she could hear nothing else as she clutched her pillow to her chest and bit into it. A broken little sob managed to escape anyway.

She was flushed with sweat, her feet tangled in the sheets, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind.  
The cat was gone. Allison always left a window cracked open in case he wanted out, trusting the rusty bars at her windows and the general poor state of the old building she lived in to deter most thieves. 

Pumpking never liked being closed in, she and Gemma had both tried to make him and indoors cat but he always found some way to escape.  
In the end they'd compromised and gotten him fixed, allowing him to come and go in their tiny apartments as he pleased. 

The nightstand radio read 1:37 AM. She tossed and turned, trying to fall back asleep but it was no use.  
Giving up, Allison got out of bed and pulled on the first pair of clean jeans and shirt she found, shoved on her beaten old sneakers and headed for the stairs.

Thechnically it wasn't allowed, Mrs. Wan (the landlady) would be angry if she found out anyone went up to her secret garden, but sometimes Allie would go up to the roof and stare at the night sky.   
There wasn't much stargazing to be had, the light pollution didn't allow for much - it was why she went hiking whenever she could.   
She'd always loved nature, especially at night. Seeing the stars paint the sky when it was clear was the best show she'd ever seen.

Now the very thought of even driving past a forest had her trembling. She could never enjoy that particular view again.

Allison used her shoulder to push the creaky old roof door open and stepped out into the chilly night air, shivering at the drop in temperature.

She wished she had a cigarette or a joint. Maybe she'd go buy some in the morning, potentially help settle her nerves. She hadn't had a smoke since Uni. 

The Vancouver night was relatively peaceful in this part of town, her flat was on the less dangerous side of Downtown. Sometimes the gangs strayed but nothing had happened nearby since she'd moved. She'd heard about messengers or dealers sometimes using rooftops to get around but that might have just been an urban myth.

Allie leaned back against one of the vents and took a deep breath, staring up. Her heart had already calmed considerably and the panic was subsiding.  
She tried doing her breathing exercises again, closing her eyes for a moment to count.

The click behind her made her snap them open again and freeze.  
She held her breath, the skin of her scalp tightened as the muscles there instinctively tensed - her ears pulling back a fraction.

Three more successive clicks had her scrambling, turning to face the sound.

The thing from last night materialized into being, clicking and growling something at her again.

Allison swallowed, her breathing becoming fast and shallow. A scream worked itself up her throat but her mouth was too dry to peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

The thing pressed something on his metal gauntlet and Gemma's voice came out, shushing her gently like she'd done a few hours ago.

Had he been watching her this whole time?!  
Allie's eyes just about bugged out of her head, hackles raising.

"Y-you leave her out of this!" she stuttered, trying to sound imposing and ending on a whimper.

"Calm." the robotic voice said.

Allison cursed her idiocy. Of course she'd been followed and she'd led them straight to her home, put her friends and neighbours in danger.

"No. Hurt." Gemma's cut off words came next.

Allison's fear warred with her anger and she shuffled on her feet, caught between facing off against the threat to someone she loved and saving herself.

There was no way to beat this thing. One backhand from that meaty, clawed hand and she'd go flying.   
Her only other option was to run.

Her eyes darted left and right. Desperate for a way out.

Mrs. Wan, contrary to building regulations and her own damn 'rules', was growing potted little tomato plants on the roof. She'd left them out on account of the good weather.

The pots were too big for Allison to lift and use as a weapon, though.   
The tomatoes looked ripe, hanging heavy on the thin stems.

The flat Gemma lived in was close, she could probably make the jump, run down the fire escape and… she didn't have anyhing more than that. Run like hell and try to hide. She had to try.  
  
Allison took a deep breath.  
The thing cocked his spiky head at her, she saw his muscled thighs tense and his right foot slide back a fraction.   
The jig was up.

She rushed towards the other flat, snagging the biggest, plumpest tomato and dragging the whole slim plant down as she passed it, and with a move she hadn't used since playing handball in highschool, twisted on her toes to throw it right at the thing's head.

She saw the fruit sail through the air as if time had slowed, it was right on track to the 'eyes' of the helmet - but her pursuer ducked, spikes flowing, and Mrs. Wan's prized red tomato splatted in mid-air.

She didn't have time to ponder the miss and hit, her spin finishing as she readied herself to jump.

She barely stepped on the ledge before a strong, large and rough hand caught her right wrist and yanked back so hard she heard her shoulder _pop_.

Allison struggled, panic defeating pain, and kicked her legs as she was passed from one hand to the other while turned around as though she weighed nothing.

She screamed and, using her free hand, grabbed onto one of the long dark spikes coming out of the things head, pulling with all her might while it grunted in pain.  
It grabbed her other hand and forcefully raised it so she was hanging by both wrists from his scaly paw.

She tried kicking with both legs but it bent at the waist just as her sneaker scraped his crotch. Then he grabbed her right ankle and held her out like playdough.  
Allison swore at him and tried to wiggle free. His arm-span was longer than her body stretched out, he could probably snap her in two if he wanted.

It clicked and hummed at her. It sounded a lot like laughing.

"Let me _go_ , you _bastard_!" she screamed and spat in his face, right between the flashing green plates for eyes.

That stopped him laughing but a deeper one started behind him.

Allison stared up just as the bigger thing was wiping at the metal mask's chin. There was red juice all over it, his neck and chest.  
He towered over her captor by at least a head.

The giant reached beneath his spiky graying hair and something hissed as the mask moved away from his face. The clicking hum that she could only interpret as laughing became clearer.

The most _disgusting_ mantis-crab face came out from under it. With bright, burning golden eyes deepset and beady under a heavy bowed and spiky brow and a big domed forehead. There was a wicked burn scar waxing the flesh on his right side in little jagged waves - it was the _ugliest_ thing she had ever seen.

It was too much.

The chase, the terror, the lack of proper sleep and food.   
And now _this_.

Everything was just _too_ _much_.

Allison's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her awareness turning black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> awu'asa = armor
> 
> s'he'ei = weaver
> 
> awu'asa s'he'ei = armor smith
> 
> wei-ghe'h = woman/female
> 
> pe-ghwie = primitive
> 
> \----------
> 
> A/N: I'm loving the positive reaction here!!  
> Thank you all who read and a big thank you to the lovely people who've left comments so far. You really help motivate me to write all these ideas down!


	4. Bad reputation

Hul'gkan almost dropped the wiggly primitive when it had gone completely lax.

After the nasty pop he'd heard from her shoulder, he'd tried to be careful gripping her fragile wrists. They were so thin and weak, he could feel all the delicate little bones grinding together even while pressing lightly.

He'd been tempted to crush them anyway when she had spat in his visor.

He hadn't been entirely convinced she was truly worthy of bringing back to the Homeworld until now.  
Iktaha'rg had sent him the mission parameters while they waited for the oomans to finish their ridiculous wailing.  
If not for the Elder's urge towards caution, he might have just busted in and taken his prey while it was alone in the tub of tainted water. He could easily have blasted the flimsy wall in, knocked her out and left before any of the other primitives knew what was happening.  
In the end he'd huffed his annoyance but decided he might as well use to opportunity to practice his patience and plan how to handle the request to his advantage.

The little female had shown some potential by attempting to derail him and run. Even her useless struggle while caught proved an affinity towards identifying weak spots.  
His tress still hurt from where she'd almost yanked it out in a surprising show of fury-driven strength and while a kick in the crotch wouldn't have debilitated him like a human male, it would have still hurt.  
He remembered getting hit there (mostly accidentally) while sparring when he was still a pup. Even with the protection of the codpiece he'd almost doubled over in pain. His revenge had been swift and decisive afterwards, of course.

Iktaha'rg chittered in confused amusement at the ooman now hanging limply in the young warrior's hands.  
He'd have to treat that shoulder and maybe the wrists and ankle he'd squeezed to keep hold of her, nothing was dislocated but he knew that ooman flesh reacted badly and would swell.   
He'd fix all the other superficial damage too, not wanting to bring an unworthy subject in.   
The weak medicine she had applied to herself was barely useful and the sharp smell of it irritated the olfactory organ on the roof of his mouth even through the helmet.

Iktaha'rg licked some of the fruit juice off his finger and snorted, obviously displeased.  
The Elder gestured at him to follow so he threw the ooman over a shoulder, cloaking them both and obeyed.

They would be taking one of the Elder's personal vessels on the return, neither wishing to risk a prey primitive on a full clanship that was still sending excitable, bold Youngbloods on their chiva to various locations on this dirtball or to other game planets in neighbouring galaxies.  
He would protect his prize with his life, of course, but the risk was unnecessary and he was looking forward to not sharing space with so many others for a change.  
Perhaps he would strike out on his own for a while before joining the large hunting parties as a scout, he would surely be given his own ship after all his successes.

They walked to the mostly abandoned docking area (which _stank_ horribly) where the Elder's ship had already been called and hovered noiseless and cloaked above the dirty water.

He would be glad to be done with this place.   
The oomans tended to spoil the land everywhere they expanded. The primitives had not learned how to preserve their own home and exploited it like parasites. He knew it had not always been so, but oomans were so shortlived they had either forgotten or decided not to care.

As soon as he was aboard, he set the ooman down next to the hound's closed cage, ordering it to guard his catch without harming her (just in case it got hungry) and turned to the Elder.

<<Elder, I demand my rights as Blooded be acknowledged.>> he asked formally, thumping his fist over his chest twice for both his hearts and bowing his head a fraction - as befitting one of his current status. He would no longer bow at the waist towards anyone except perhaps the members of the Council, Clan Leaders and Matriarchs and the Ancients.

\----------

Allison had been swimming in and out of consciousness for some time. She'd caught swaying glimpses of the flat grey pavement and smelt the fishy garbage odor of the docks. Something hard and metallic was digging into her side uncomfortably, but it was so far away it hardly seemed to matter.

When she was starting to come around, the pavement changed to something darker then to fog.   
She closed her eyes and relaxed her body as she was grabbed around the waist, and unceremoniously deposited into the low fog.  
Her head and shoulders were still well above the strange vapors and while the air felt strange, stuffy and hot, she didn't feel sick or lightheaded so whatever it was probably wouldn't immediately hurt her.

Her captor growled next to her head, but she had her eyes closed and it didn't sound like he was talking to her so she kept playing possum.

When she felt him leave and heard him rumble from further away she cracked an eye open.

She tried to keep still while taking in everything around her, she was in a big room with dark walls and dim red lights. There were strange cables and arches and things that looked like crates.

She felt dread creep up her arms and she supresed a full-body shudder. The ramp they'd ascended on was silently closing, stealing away her view of the docks.

Where the _hell_ was she?

The things that had caught her were still growling at each other as her eyes frantically searched for some sort of escape route, her mind refusing to accept the truth.

The big one, still unmasked and ugly (although less shocking now) took something slimy and dark from a belt-pocket, then stabbed it with a long, pointy knife. The smaller one kept his helmeted head bowed while the huge guy drew something on it.

Then the (relatively) littler one reached under his own domed head-gear and took it off with a hiss.

His face was similar in structure as the big one's, except he had no scars and it looked just barely less gross.  
The four mandible-tusks on his face were smaller and closer together, his deep-set eyes a little wider compared to the rest of his face and the irises were colored a striking, vivid green.  
Where the big one had a multitude of little spikes around the brows and along the edges of his large egg-shaped head, the smaller one looked more… clean-shaven? 

Kind of like if a pug got on third base with a horshoe crab and the result was mutated with praying mantis and maybe crocodile genes.

Allison almost gagged when the big one drew the same symbol on her captors right upper pectoral. It left a green stain behind that oozed a little. 

Huh, fluorescent green blood, go figure.

There was a slight lurch in the pit of her stomach, so gentle she might not have felt it had she not been so high-strung. Had they moved?

She felt a warm, moist and kind of stinky gust of wind at the back of her head, fluttering loose strands of hair in her face and making her turn to check for a vent. Maybe it was big enough to crawl through.

She came face to face with an even uglier thing. A sort of frog-eyed, spiky, reptilian dog.  
It growled at her.  
She screeched bloody murder and promptly fainted again.

\----------

Both warriors had their weapons ready at the primitive's shrill sound of distress.  
Hul'gkan saw her warm shape beneath the air cleanser and his hound patiently watching him with its head cocked to the side as though the ooman confused it.   
He could relate.

He grabbed her by the uninjured left ankle and dragged her after him further into the ship, past the kehrite, galley and the Elder's quarters and into the medbay. He picked her up by the hem of her useless pants and plopped her onto the elevated, flat surface of the utilitarian medical bed. It dwarfed her considerably. 

The biological reports indicated she'd be mostly fine breathing their air, it wasn't ideal for her and some shortness of breath was expected untill she adapted, but said nothing of the misted cleanser so he wouldn't risk it. She was his responsibility now after all.

He used the medical scanner on her to tag all the damage he had to fix.  
She would need a thorough cleaning before any treatment first.

Hul'gkan grabbed the healing gel and a spare netting array loop and slung her over his shoulder again snorting at her weak groans that indicated she was waking again. 

What a strange defense mechanism oomans had. To become unconscious meant certain death to him. He couldn't imagine what evolutionary twists had led them down such a foolish trigger.

He could feel the ape tense where they touched as he entered the sparse clensing room so before she had the chance to start struggling again he set her down, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her still and standing.

She was favoring her right leg, not putting much weight on her bruised ankle and staring at him, stinking of fear.

\----------

Allison tried to keep her balance on just one foot, the sting of different small pains all over her body assaulting her already fried nerves with constant little pings of discomfort.

The big guy let go of her shoulder and fiddled with his gauntlet again.  
"Dis-robe." the robotized voice said.

Allie stared at him, a thousand thoughts passing through her head at once, none of them nice.

"Dis-robe." it repeated as the thing took a menacing step closer to her, crowding her in the tight space. As if he'd do it himself is she woudn't.

"W-why?" she squeaked, dreading the answer but needing to know.

He blinked and grumbled then pointed to the far wall.  
She frowned and looked between him and the indicated space, still confused.

He huffed and said something growly, sidestepping her to press a big scaly paw on a previously invisible glass-looking panel that was inset in the dark metal wall.  
A section of the floor lifted and morphed into a bowl shape which started filling with steaming water.

Her curiosity overrode the fear for a moment and she approached the strange tub. It wasn't quite water - thicker and tinged blue.   
She dipped a finger in the rapidly rising fluid and immediately snatched it back with a hiss.

"Do you want to fucking cook me?!" she half-shouted, a mad giggle working its way up her throat.  
Was all this bullshit just to snack on boiled human?!

The thing scrunched his ugly crab face at her and swiped his hand down the panel. The not-water in the tub gradually stopped steaming.

She gave it another try when he grunted at her again. Still hot but not scalding.

Now that her terror had abated, she could see this was a washroom of some sort. There was another bowl-shaped protrusion that looked a lot like a toilet and opposite that was a semi-circle with a spout coming out of the wall above it. They were all super-sized and there was no mirror.

Her captor grunted something that sounded a lot like "pacteh human" and something else she didn't catch.

\----------

<<Ell-osde' s'ke'i-te.>> he ordered again, frustrated at her easily distracted mind and inability to understand him. He'd have to teach her simple commands, for his own sake but especially because no one on the Homeworld would tolerate her ignorance and the dishonor would fall on him.  
The language pack repeated the command in a way she understood, the slithery ooman trade tongue that he disliked and could never spell out properly taunting him with its lack of substance.   
He'd attempted to learn some simple phrases when the call for his chiva was given but the words just didn't sound right coming from his mouth.   
He didn't like doing things by half-measure. He would not demean himself by speaking it.

She blinked big prey eyes at him and crossed her spindly arms over her chest.

"Fine, but _you_ need to leave."

He straightened. The audacity of this ape! As if he'd let her out of his sight after all the bother she'd put him through.

He was _done_ coaxing.   
She was no eta or aseigan, her status as a living Trophy or Offering was unclear until he decided, but was definitely not honorable enough to be his equal.  
It was time to teach the primitive her place.

Hul'gkan struck lighting-fast, gabbing the ooman by the scruff of her neck and pushing her down with barely enough force to nudge an adult yaut'ja.  
Her soft body bounced on the floor and he savored the surprised groan of pain, then put his foot on her back, careful to press only hard enough to immobilize and not crack any ribs - those would take too long to heal and training needed to start as soon as possible.

She struggled and he increased the pressure minutely, making her gasp for breath.  
<<Ki'dte!>> he shouted.  
"Obey." his translator continued.

The ooman spluttered and heaved. He heard it plead for its life and agree to his demands between shallow breaths.  
He pressed one last time, like his teacher had so many spans ago when Hul'gkan had started training and in his youthful ignorange refused to learn, to make the lesson sink in.

The primitive stayed on the floor for a few more breaths, possibly trying to compose itself then dragged herself up carefully and, shrinking as far away from him as possible, started taking off her textile garments.

He crossed his arms and waited then turned his head midway as it bared itself, the thing was disgustingly soft, fragile skin riddled with warmer bruises and cuts.   
He would admit the slight build might have been passably elegant with more muscle but right now it was pathetic.

She was sniffling and he scented saltwater but refused to acknowledge anything, staring to the side and trusting his peripheral vision to alert him is she tried anything tricky again.

He was relieved when she started washing herself.   
Hul'gkan was accustomed to cleaning his hound but this was different somehow. She was not quite an animal, definitely not yaut'ja and he didn't feel like touching her flimsy skin unless he had to.   
She likely thought the same way about him, judging by her full-body cringe when he turned to check her progress.

He looked down at her in the cleanser fluid and gestured at her head - she dutifully dunked and cleaned her strange, impossibly thin tresses.

Once she seemed clean enough, he activated the drain and filter then the drier, remembering to put the blast and temperature on low.  
She still shrieked in distress hopping on her good foot and making him repress another laugh.   
Oomans might be disobedient and rude, but they provided ample entertainment with their stupidity.

He growled at her when she reached for the textile clothes. They still stank of the sharp ooman medicine.  
She obeyed the warning immediately, placing a protective hand over her bushy crotch and ample mammaries.

Pah! Oomans and their modesty!

Hul'gkan offered the healing gel container (already opened) and nodded when she proceeded to apply it all over her abrasions and bruises.  
Then he took the netting loops and gestured for her to hold a hand out.  
He hummed in approval when she held a slim wrist out.  
Good thing the loops automatically adjusted to the wearer's body structure. Everyone from pups to the largest of females could wear these.

He snapped the loops on her wrists and ankles and growled in warning when she tried to dart away from the hand reaching her neck, then activated the netting, ignoring the renewed shriek.  
He gave her a quick once-over. It would do.   
He'd have to find proper footwear later.

\----------

The big guy made a 'come hither' motion with his hand and she was quick to follow him out, still sore from when he'd stepped on her.   
That had been a lesson she wasn't going to forget any time soon. She'd temporarily lost her healthy fear of these things in her exhausted state. That had been his way of telling her the proverbial kid gloves were off.

She snagged her sneakers on the way, hoping that he was no longer paying attention to her now that his back was turned.   
The floor was even and warm but it felt weird walking barefoot through the fog.  
She'd gotten a better glimpse of his feet in the bathroom (when she'd been _stepped on_ ). They looked weird, clad in metal sandals and had scaly skin with one toe on the side like some huge raptor dinosaur.  
Their skin wasn't too far off from what she imagined dinosaur hide to be like either.

The whole ordeal had been scary and humiliating. At least he'd averted his eyes when she was naked and washing.  
Had it been some sort of concession on his part? 

Judging by the derisive snort when she'd come out in her birthday suit, wet and trembling, her worse(r) case scenario wasn't likely to happen. Which was _such_ a relief - never in her life had she been more happy to be found completely unattractive.

She thought she'd be walking around naked (the big things were scantily clad, even when wearing their armor) but she was grateful for the strange cuffs now.

She didn't particularly like the skintight mesh, it left absolutely nothing to the imagination, but it covered all the important bits with a denser weave and kept her surprisingly cool. The air on the ship was hotter and more humid than she was used to. Almost like a sauna. Nothing overwhelming but uncomfortable enough she was perspiring even while sitting still - and it wasn't just the cold sweats from the fear.

Allison followed the big guy to a spare room with one huge bed in the middle. There were metal cabinets and weird machines lining the walls. It looked like an operating room.

He wouldn't bother dressing her if he was gonna dissect her, would he?

She had no choice but to awkwardly hop on the tall bed and try her best not to wince at the injections made to her swollen shoulder and ankle, wrists and one at her base of her neck.   
He'd been unexpectedly gentle parting the wet hair from her back and neck with those sharp black claws, barely touching her skin.

She couldn't tell where he'd even gotten the strange needle-gun he'd injected her with from, it had looked like a cabinet had slid open and then noiselessly closed back like the tub had.

She lay flat on her back as some doohickey scanned her with a soft green light, it was almost soothing.   
The surface of the bed was hard but not uncomfortable and there was a cool feeling spreading from where she'd been needled outwards to the rest of her body.

A desperate little voice at the back of her head screamed that she was still not safe, the heavy feeling in her arms and legs too sudden to be natural, that she couldn't just fall asleep - but it was quickly dampened as her mind fuzzed out.

Her eyelids drooped and she hid a yawn behind her hand, earning herself a grumpy growl at the movement.  
Her last thought was a groggy 'fuck you' she may or may not have let slip before her eyes blinked closed one last time.

\----------

The morning - or, what felt like morning for her, she had no idea what time it was or how much she'd slept - found her waking up rested and refreshed.   
The room she was in was the same, barren except for the bed and strange devices, and she woke up curled on her right side with her arm pillowing her head.

There was no trace of the big guys anywhere, which was a huge relief. The thought of them watching her sleep like they'd watched her back in her home made her feel icky.

She wondered what Gemma was doing.   
She would have probably found out that Allison was missing by now. 

Allie couldn't help but imagine what would have happened had she remained in bed. Would they have broken into her home to abduct her?

What if she'd let Gemma stay the night?  
Would they have taken them _both_?

An ugly little part of her wanted that. Someone to commiserate with. Someone familiar she could trust.  
Someone... _human_.

An even more wretched little fragment of her wondered if she'd have been spared this fate as long as they got _one_ of them.

She shook the thought away.

She missed her friend more than ever - a sort of hollow, foreboding ache just below her throat, but she didn't want to ever see Gemma again, too afraid of bringing death or worse to her doorstep.  
  
In the end, Allie was glad the creatures hadn't seemed interested in her friend. She wouldn't wish this fate on her worst enemy - not that she'd had one, until now.

Her sneakers were still under the bed where she'd tossed them, hidden by the fog. She pulled them on and marveled at how well she felt. Her bruises and scrapes were almost entirely gone, her wrists, ankle, shoulder and back no longer ached.   
She felt better than ever!

And she was hungry. A little thirsty too.

Her stomach felt stuck to her spine. Her lips dry and chapped.  
Her last meal bad been a measly bowl of chicken soup - light on the chicken, heavy on the broth.

She didn't think there was anything to eat in this room, not that she'd be able to find it if there was, whatever trick the big guy had used to open the panels and cabinets had been hidden by his bulk.

She tried looking around anyway, trying to find seams in the walls and cabinets but all she saw were strange, perfectly even inscriptions in the black metal that looked a lot like squigglier cuneiform.

She reached the arch they'd entered through and it opened for her with a quiet woosh.  
She breathed a sigh of relief, glad she wasn't imprisoned in the operating room.

Allison stuck her head out and peered to either side of the corridor. She skirted to the bathroom, which also opened automatically, hoping to splash some water on her face.  
The faucet on the wall gushed a steady stream of water when she put her hands under it. 

She debated drinking it. It didn't feel weird like the bath water. It smelled fresh.  
She took a sip and found it tasted fine so she sated her thirst.

She was glad she didn't need the toilet. That thing was very tall and she didn't know how or if it flushed.

Patting around on the wall revealed it worked by suction then closed itself up - probably to sanitize?  
Either way, she was glad she'd figured it out. The technology here was strange and seamlesly integrated.

Done with the bathroom, she poked her head out and proceeded up the dark hallway to the furthest door.   
It opened for her.

She _froze_.

Before her, beyond the wide transparent glass in front of the giant throne dominating the room, was naked, impossibly dark space.

Allison was finally forced to face the truth she had been dreading this whole time.   
The suspicion had manifested in her head from the first time she'd seen the thin, black creature with acid for blood and when her captor had appeared in front of her as if dispelling a curtain of heat over a baking road in summer, brandishing strange weapons and armor. 

Neither of those beings could have come from Earth. They were simply too different, too... _alien_.

Her mind whirled with a thousand thoughts, but three facts took shape most solidly;

One - humans were most definitely _not_ alone in the galaxy.

Two - she was on a space-ship. 

And three - she'd been abducted by huge, scary aliens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> kehrite = dojo/training room
> 
> Ell-osde' s'ke'i-te. = Wash/Cleanse yourself.
> 
> Ki'dte! = Enough!
> 
> \----------
> 
> A/N:  
> I read that the air composition Predators need is a little higher for certain gasses than what humans breathe. I'm not entirely sure what they have would suffocate humans since we need the oxygen and there's more than enough of it.  
> The other stuff might make it a little harder to breathe and the moisture would be annoying but I figure it wouldn't be too taxing as long as the human in question doesn't have any lung-related problems.
> 
> Also, I don't want to bother with breathing apparatus.  
> And the thought of humans being space orcs even though they're physically weaker than the big bad Predators amuses me greatly.


	5. I can't decide

Hul'gkan found the primitive in the cockpit.

Fortunately, she had not meddled with anything. Although he doubted she knew how to even activate the interface, accidents _did_ happen.

He'd been keeping an eye on her using the hidden gkinmara installed in the med-bay for observation.   
He hadn't expected the medicine to affect her so strongly, he was certain he'd calculated the dosage correctly. Perhaps the mild sedatives contained in the serum were too much for the primitive ooman body.  
She had slept for an abnormal amount of time - even for her kind, who needed around 30% of their day-night cycle to rest fully - a weakness often exploited by yaut'ja who earned the rights to hunt the best warriors oomans had to offer.

Once awake, the inquisitive little ape had attempted to find Iktaha'rg's cashes of medical supplies, perhaps searching for a sedative or poison?   
He would not put it past such a weak creature to resort to underhanded means of revenge. He would have to monitor her at all times. 

He allowed her time to stare out into the cold, featureless kjuhte. The sight of such a lack of anything sometimes affected even Unblooded on their first kv'var away from their home planet. It took discipline to accustom one's mind to the great void, and the ooman was unlikely to have been taught even the most basic forms in her short life.

She had stood, petrified, in front of the observation window for quite some time, then proceeded further into the cockpit (thankfully sidestepping the Elder's seat) and kneeled before the endless black, small hands splaying spindly fingers on the window, heedless of his presence behind her.

Her spacial awareness wasn't usually this lacking. While weak and untrained, her raw instinct for danger was good enough to rival a reckless Unblooded's.  
Her shock must have been greater than he knew.

Hul'gkan clicked to get her attention but the primitive was either transfixed or ignoring him.  
That would not do.

<<Ooman.>> he called.

She startled and rose to face him, her slight frame a slash of heat against the nothing while she widened her stance as though preparing to flee.  
Or fight.   
_Interesting_.

The stink of fear still permeated the air around her, he'd have to drill that out of her as much as possible too, it only served to incite a chase from lesser yaut'ja.

"My name is Allison." she stated, voice unwavering. Good.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment and said his own in return while thumping his chest to make the association clear.

"Hool-kahn." she tried, and failed, to sound with her fleshy mouth.

He grunted in dismissal, names were irrelevant, and gestured for her to follow him only to stop in his tracks at the loud growl emitting from the primitive.  
He almost took offense but saw her clutching a hand at her stomach when he glanced back.

Ah, oomans had rapid metabolisms.

\----------

Hulk (as she'd chosen to call him privately, she couldn't pronounce his name properly) led the way to another room that looked a little homier than the rest. It had a giant rounded couch in front of a simple metal table and what looked like another sink next to a huge black vertical rectangle dominating the far wall and high lighter-colored horizontal metal surface, that reached her elbows, with grooves in it.  
Like on the rest of the ship, the walls were decorated with alien writing.  
She wondered if she'd ever find out what they meant.

Allie stood in the center of the room, hunger pangs making her dizzy while she tried to quiet her rumbling stomach, feeling oddly embarrassed.   
It was still better than the pit of despair she'd been spiraling through barely a minute ago.

She could see the big rectangle was a refrigeration unit of some kind when Hulk opened an invisible latch to fold the front open.

He took a big slab of purple meat(?) out and piled a slightly concave plate he'd magicked from somewhere on the wall full of other items.   
He put the plate on the table and went over to the groovy table (for the blood, _of course_ ) to cut the meat and strip it from the bone with precise, forceful jerks of his wrist. She hoped he'd remembered to clean those arm-blades beforehand.

She tentatively approached the table and climbed onto the furthest edge of the hard couch.  
The stuff on the plates looked kind of like fruits and vegetables with a few root-like things thrown in. She recognized a carrot and grabbed it, hoping he'd let her use a knife to clean the skin off but saw no ustensils anywhere.  
It seemed clean though, she might be able to eat it like that anyway.

Hulk returned with the plate of meat and took a seat on the other side of the couch, pushing his offering further towards her with the tips of two clawed fingers.

She made a face at the raw meat and he snuffed at her like a bored dinosaur, reaching for something at his waist, hidden by the table's edge, and coming up with a small metal square.   
He placed it next to the meat and, with deliberate slowness, pressed on a tiny button underneath.

The square unraveled open and up like a funky camera aperture and a small flame spouted from the centre. 

"Nifty." Allie said.

<<S'em-te.>> Hulk said.   
"Eat." the robotic voice on his wrist echoed.

Allie gulped and summoned all her courage, hoping this wouldn't earn her another meeting with the floor. Hulk had made it abundantly clear he wasn't a _requests_ kind of guy.  
"C-can I use a knife or some-?"   
She squeezed the carrot in her hand hard enough to break it at the low 'Krrr' coming from his throat.

"Please?" she croaked, hoping to appease him.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached for his waist again and slid out a pointy, slightly curved knife that looked small in his hands but was medium for her, sliding it towards her slowly.

Allie didn't know wether she should grab it or not. He looked angry - or well, angri _er_.   
Was this a test? Would he cut off her hand if she picked up a weapon? Was he daring her?  
She wasn't even hungry anymore. Maybe if she backed off real slow he'd let her leave.

<<S'em-te!>> he ordered again.

Allie hurried to oblige, almost cutting herself in her haste.  
He watched her as she cleaned her squashed carrot and ate it while using the knife to try and roast a small piece of meat.  
She ended up charring it a little and let it cool while she tried some of the alien greens (even though most were decidedly _not_ green).

His unwavering, beady-eyed stare was a little distracting, but hunger won out in the end.

She tried the meat last, it was surprisingly good even unseasoned. A little gamey though. She hoped it hadn't used to be anything sentient.

Allie put the knife down in front of her when she was done, pushing it back towards him hilt-first.

"Thank you." she said as he picked it up after a bit more staring.

\----------

The ooman had barely touched the food by the time she was done. He'd only brought out about half a normal portion and she'd eaten less than half of that.   
Clearly, their foodstores would not suffer from the new addition.

He'd made certain she swallowed everything and monitored what pieces she favored. He knew enough about ooman diets not to poison her but for training to be effective he might use food as a reward system.  
It had worked on his hound after all.

He waited for a few more beats after she handed back his skinning knife to be certain then showed her how to pack the containers and store them.  
She watched, curiosity drawing her closer to him as he demonstrated how to use the galley.

The air around her still had a tinge of fear, but it was considerably more subdued. It seemed the rumors about oomans being strongly adaptable to shock were true.

He was pleased, his offering was more likely to be accepted and, if the call had went out to multiple Elders, he'd also be among the first one to bring in a specimen too - no one else could have caught one so fast and already be on their way.   
He looked forward to reaping the benefits of his catch.

But first, he would need to educate the primitive. 

He lead the way to the kehrite, nodding his head in salute at Iktaha'rg who was practicing his forms.  
Hul'gkan had trained while the primitive slept, he could not neglect his own training and caring for the ooman was taking up an inordinate amount of time.

The little ape stopped in the doorway, blocking it from closing, seemingly reluctant to enter an enclosure with two sain'ja.  
Not a bad instinct, but cumbersome for him now.

\----------

"Come here." Gemma's soft voice called at her smoothly.  
Her head snapped at Hulk, anger heating her face like a furnace.

"Stop that." she mumbled, making him growl first in surprise, mouth-parts fidgeting, then 'krrr' another warning.

The bigger, older looking alien was keeping perfectly still in a strange position reminding her of her own yoga exercises. His burnt gold eyes were open, appraising her and Hulk with a glint of interest and possibly amusement.

He was also wearing a loincloth.

 _Only_ a loincloth. (and that weird black dense coil on the neck they always wore)

That was a _lot_ of alien on display.

He reminded her a little of a childhood neighbour's grandparent. An old veteran who was unreasonably fit for his age and liked to workout topless. He too had enjoyed messing with the younger people, as she assumed Hulk was.  
Could Hulk be a teenager?   
It would explain his crummy attitude.

Gramps (her new inner nickname for the Bigger Guy) rose from his stance slowly, methodically. Thick, corded muscles shifted, tensed and relaxed in turn as he stretched.

How did these things have the bodies of dinosaur-Adonis and the faces of puked up pug-mantis-crabs?!

Her mouth went a little dry as Gramps straightened, dominating the room with his tall, bulky frame.  
He could probably kill her with the flick of a finger...

Allie shifted on the balls of her feet, feeling the strange sort of soft, almost like it was padded, floor roll under them - getting ready for… something.

Hulk krrr'd again and came toward her with purposefully heavy steps. She squared her shoulders and faced him with a hateful glare, she knew now there was no point in running from him.

Gramps clicked and babbled something to Hulk as he stopped in front of her and measured her up and down.

She had no choice but to let him grab her by the arm and bodily drag her to where he wanted her. His grip was strong but not bruising and she didn't resist, it would have been a waste of energy.

He stood in front of her again, tall and imposing with his beefy arms crossed.  
Jesus, his bicep was bigger than her head…

He hum-clicked something and the robotic voice said "Sit."

She looked around her feet and behind her for a chair then sat on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest before he got angry again. This room had no fog obscuring the soft wood-like planks that were fitted together neatly. If not for the dim light it would almost look like a dojo.

Another command and the translation. "Stand."  
She stood, frowning up at Hulk.

He just said another curt word, immediately translated by his gauntlet: "Stay" - then pivoted on his heel and walked away to the other side of the room. Gramps stood watching, leaning on the far wall opposite the entrance, completing a triangle between the three of them.

Hulk clicked and nodded, throwing her something small and round.  
She caught it on instinct - one of the fruits she'd enjoyed earlier?

The aliens chattered to each other while Allie's head started to pound.  
Indignation, humiliation and most of all - a burning _anger_ surged through all of her body sending heated flashes to her face. Her vision focused on the ugly bastard and her hand tightened around the fruit.

Her brain wasn't in charge anymore, her arm moved all by itself, reached back, back - and slung the fist-sized fruit like a baseball, as hard as she could.

"I'M NOT A DOG!" she shouted, panting for breath.  
Hulk, who hadn't been paying attention, turned his head towards her at her sudden noise and the fruit hit him square in the not-nose, breaking apart on impact with a wet splash.

Her momentary satisfaction at having landed the shot dissipated with her anger the second he growled at her in what she'd come to recognize as his "I'll end you." tone. He had sounded similar during the bathroom incident, only now it was lower and there was an audible vicious rattle behind it.  
  
Where she'd been hot with anger moments ago, Allie trembled at the spike of cold fear freezing her to the spot.

\--------

The smell of her fear made the blood rushing to his head sing with the promise of violence.   
He wiped at his eyes and made for the ape with vicious intent.

He was abruptly stopped, just over an armspan away from the trembling little thing, by Iktaha'rg's vice-like grip on his shoulder.

Hul'gkan knew he could break the hold, or slacken it, if only for a second. It would be enough to take the primitive's head off. One clean swipe of his claws. That was it.

Iktaha'rg rattled in warning and jerked Hul'gkan's shoulder back, breaking him out of his anger-fueled bloodlust.   
Killing her now would be unwise - so roared his frustration in her face.

Hul'gkan wiped at his mouth again, the sticky pulp and juices of the naxa were everywhere.

He'd have to come up with appropriate punishment.   
Later.  
When he didn't feel like breaking the arm she'd thrown with.

Just when he thought he was starting to make progress… 

How dare she humiliate him so!

He growled at her one last time, shaking Iktaha'rg off and scratching himself on the Elder's claws in the process, then left to wash his face.

\----------

Allison's knees felt like jelly but she remained standing by some miracle - her legs were probably locked down.

She'd closed her eyes when Hulk had roared at her, flinging her hair back and sending bits of spittle out with the force of it.

Idly, she thought it strange that his breath smelled of nothing. Just warm air and moisture.

She slowly opened her eyes when she heard the door hiss open and saw Hulk leave.

A strangled breath of relief left her all at once and she slid down to sit on her ass.  
When had she even gotten her back to the wall? It must have been the 'miracle' that kept her standing.

Gramps put his hands on his hips and huffed at her, shaking his big head - long, graying dreads sliding over his wide shoulders and making the metallic and bone decorations clink together almost musically.

"Good. Aim." he hummed deep in his throat in almost perfect English.

Allie blinked up at him in surprise.  
They could speak this whole time?!

She felt some of the previous anger surge back. Why hadn't they just told her what they wanted in a way she understood? Why use Gemma's voice and the robot?  
Why all this fuckery?!

Why _her_!?

_Fucking assholes!_

She'd never hated anyone in her entire life, but the ugly feeling coiling around her lungs and throat couldn't be anything else.

<<Ze-rei'dekna.>> he rumbled and clicked in now familiar amusement.   
She hated him a little more for it.   
Not as much as Hulk though. Gramps had yet to even touch her, but he had stood behind and let the other jerk do whatever he wanted to her until now.  
She couldn't find it in her to be truly grateful to him but she supposed he would take offense if she didn't show some sort acknowledgement for saving her life.

"Thanks." she gritted out while trying to stand. Her knees were still a little weak and she slid back down.  
Her hands shook and her heart was hammering all the way up her skull and into her eyeballs.

He nodded his great spiky egg-head and turned from her, still clicking, then left her alone in the dark dojo.

She hoped Hulk wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. She was too afraid to leave now.

\----------

She must have remained in the room for hours... maybe a whole day?   
Time was a finicky thing without any way to track it and her body and mind had gone through too much for her to rely on her own circadian rhythm.

She'd spent most of that unknowable amount of time doing breathing exercises and willing herself to stop shaking.

She knew, somewhere deep down, that she had been experiencing shock.  
She'd been breathing hard, clammy with sweat and feeling cold despite the muggy air.  
She couldn't stand, too dizzy to do more than struggle feebly.

Eventually she'd just curled up and started rocking herself back and forth to let it pass. Paced her breaths when she felt confident enough her panting had died down a little.

In a way, it was surprising she hadn't cracked before now.

By the time she could see straight and wobble upright again she felt exhausted, as if she'd run a marathon with no finish line.

She was thankful she hadn't vomited, something told her that she'd get stepped on, or _worse_ , if she got sick all over the alien's pristine dojo.

Her muscles ached and she'd get random spasms all over her body. She felt twitchy, paranoid and scared of her own shadow in the low light.

One thought calmed her though, if either of the aliens really wanted her dead - she _would_ be dead. Whatever her purpose here, she was needed alive and mostly whole.

Allison rolled her shoulders, attempting to work some of the shivers off.

She needed a goddam break and a nap.   
But she was too high-strung.

Allison took a few more deep breaths and tried to distract herself by checking out the wooded room. It was barren. 

Just a large, empty wooden box.

  
She suspected there were hidden compartments but short of patting all the walls and hoping something popped out there was no way of telling where.

Allie cracked her neck from side to side, back and forth, then rolled her head to get the kinks out.

She remembered Gramps was doing his own thing before Hulk dragged her in here.

Shrugging, she continued to do her normal warm-ups. Hoping that stretching her muscles, back, chest and spine would make her feel better.

The familiar cadence of her stretches took over most of her frayed focus.  
She closed her eyes and tried to forget where she was but her ears were still finely attuned to any noise and she startled even when her own shoes squeaked on the weird floor.

She took the sneakers off. The wood was pleasantly cool under her bare feet.

Her mind stopped racing along with her body, finally working together to reach a state of focused calm. 

She was slowly working herself up to her goal, keeping her hips squared, engaging her core, aligning her spine and curling her left leg inward and under her then finally bending back and pulling her right leg up by the ankle.

She kept the position, breathing slow and deep, for a few breaths.

The door whished open, ruining her focus as she tumbled sideways to avoid bruising or breaking her back.

Hulk barged in with wisps of fog trailing him like a demon out of hell.

He clicked at her while she was trying to pick herself up, back sore. She'd hit her chin falling too, almost bit her tongue off.

She could see the glint of malicious glee in his bottle-green eyes.

Vengeful bastard.

"Come." he commanded in his own deep voice. The word sounded stilted and slow, like he was struggling to speak it. Then he repeated the word in his own language, a curt, alien bark.

She shoved her feet back in her sneakers and trotted after his broad back.

She wondered what fresh bullshit he had in store for her next.

\----------

After cleaning the fruit off and meditating his bloodlust away - which took more time than he'd expected, the primitive had riled him up more than it should have, he used to pride himself on his patience and self-control; much better developed than any other Youngblood and even many Blooded warriors he'd known - Hul'gkan had decided to check up on the little ape.

Not in the mood to hunt her down throughout the ship, he made for the closest station, the cockpit, to check the recordings.  
He would not disrespect the Elder's ship by hooking up his own gauntlet computer to the controls. He was already taking advantage of Iktaha'rg's good graces by getting a lift, both pets in tow, to the Homeworld.

Iktaha'rg, now clad in his usual armor, was in his seat in the cockpit, analyzing their course and checking for any new communications. 

It was fortunate they had some time, this was one of the Elder's smaller scout ships and could not bend space like the flagship he served on (left behind orbiting Earth with the second in command in charge of monitoring the ruins and sending out hunters.)   
Hul'gkan had some time to train his catch. Make certain she would not embarras him. Maybe show her some survival tricks to prepare her for his future practice hunts, _if_ she cooperated.

Peering over Iktaha'rg's shoulder, he noticed the Elder also had a live feed from the kehrite drawn up.

The little ape had stayed behind and, amazingly, had started utilizing the space for her own calisthenics. Although he couldn't imagine any fighting stances required such exagerated bending of ones body.

Oomans were very… _flexible_.  
No yaut'ja he knew of, even ones slighter than himself, could maintain or even reach such a stance. Their much better developed muscles would stand in the way.

The Elder said nothing as Hul'gkan turned and went to retrieve the soft female.

He took only a small amount of pleasure in surprising her and chuffed at her flailing.  
A stance so easily broken was not worth the effort.

She scampered after him. The strange footwear she'd somehow salvaged squeaking on the smooth metal flooring.  
He really had to get her proper boots and teach her to walk less noisily. The sound was irritating.

He led her to the cargo hold. It was time to familiarize his hound with his new pet. The two would have to get along enough not to kill each other. 

The hound would never disobey the order to guard, but if the little ooman proved as difficult with it as she had been with Hul'gkan himself… he would not be surprised if it snapped a piece off.  
The beast was valuable to him during more difficult hunts. He would not want to be forced to kill it because the ooman had a higher standing and had taunted it to violence.

Hul'gkan kneeled by the kennel and offered his hand up for inspection.  
The hounds did not have the best heat-sight and couldn't detect very far, their noses were their advantage.

The hound obediently snuffed at his master and waited to be let out.

The little ape had remained behind, unwilling to approach the big animal, but oddly no longer stinking of fear.

She peered curiously as Hul'gkan took his hound out by the thick chain. He almost wanted to wiggle it around a little, pretend to drop it and see what she did.

The hound snuffed towards the ooman, curious of the new creature in return. Hul'gkan had never hunted oomans until his chiva, and _that_ had been a happy accident.  
His hound would not immediately think of her as prey and the ooman seemed to sense this.  
Even though she had been frightened by it before and she still showed signs of anxiousness, stiff back, tense muscles - ready to bolt, she did not shrink away.   
Perhaps smart enough to understand Hul'gkan's intent this time.

"Good puppy." she cooed tentatively at the hound.

Hul'gkan gave the hound more slack and it advanced.  
She kneeled as he had and offered her thin hand out.

At least she knew not to run from his beast and had enough sense for mimicry.

The hound pulled a little more on the chain and Hul'gkan yanked it back. It should know better than that when not on a hunt.

"Aww, don't choke him... He's just curious."

He chittered in amusement and let the hound closer. Ready to hold it back if it gave even the _impression_ of snapping.

The ooman made strange cooing and not-quite-clicking noises with her lips by puckering them.  
Strangely, the hound seemed to respond positively. Perhaps mistaking the clicks for Hul'gkan's approval noises.

He let the beast sniff her open palm but not touch it.

"You aren't so bad, are you boy?" she continued in that soft, low tone, making the hound cock its head to the side in confusion. It did not seem to know how to respond to anything that wasn't an order, prey or a threat.

Hul'gkan chuffed, the hound would turn on her the moment he commanded it. Still, cooperation would benefit him.

"You're not gonna tell him to eat me now, are you?" she asked.  
For a moment he thought she was still talking to the hound. He was surprised she could infer so much from his tone and mannerisms alone.

"Will he bite me if I touch him?"

 _How bold_.

Intrigued, Hul'gkan ordered the hound to sit and stay with a series of clicks. It was trained to remain unmoving, be it for minutes or a day. Hunting often involved waiting for long periods of time for prey to show up.

The beast immediately obeyed, sitting on its haunches first, then laying down on its belly.

The ooman cooed again, seemingly impressed and, at Hul'gkan's nod, slowly reached out to touch the hound's head.

It remained unmoving as the ooman lightly stroked it's big spiked head, closing its eyes in pleasure when she scratched behind its jaw with her blunt little nails.

Hul'gkan had never seen the hound wiggle its behind and short stubby tail like that since its early youth.  
How strange and unbecoming. 

He barked an order for it to return to its cage and the hound grunted but followed.  
The ooman pursed her fat fleshy lips in what he could only assume was disappointment by the whine she let out.

He had to be more careful with this ooman, she might ruin his hound by spoiling it with unearned attention.

* * *

A/N

I got a request for character bios so here goes. Writing it here since it doesn't fit in the End Notes.

(These can change as the fic progresses)

Allison Cho

\- Height: 5'9"  
\- Age: 26 (Earth) years old  
\- Marital status: not married, no romantic significant other.  
\- Current occupation: Big, scary alien's pet (not happy about it)  
\- Former occupation: Junior Quality Assurance Engineer at a small software firm that outsources to various clients (good gig, well paying but at the cost of too much sitting around and it could get boring and repetitive)  
\- Appearance&Family: of Chinese descent like her mother - family immigrated to Canada four generations ago. Caucasian father who divorced her mom when Allie was around 4.   
She inherited traits from both but looks more like her mom.  
Shoulder-length dark hair, dark eyes, slight build (ectomorph), tanned skin, slight epicanthal fold, square jaw.  
\- Important relationships:  
• Her mother who she looked up to and whose death affected her deeply.  
• Gemma - Platonic life partner, cat co-parent.  
• Mark - Nicest person she knows, work friend, babysat for his daughter.  
• Father - Some resentment for leaving during her teenage years but never got to know him so she didn't miss him too much.  
• Larry - Manager. Asshole.  
• Hulk/Hul'gkan - Currently hates and fears him.  
• Gramps/Iktaha'rg - Healthy dose of fear and respect (for now).  
• The preda-hound - Scared her shitless at first, now in the beginning stages of "PUPPY!!".  
\- Hobbies: Hiking, yoga, drawing, singing (badly), dancing in her underwear at home, reading.

Hul'gkan

\- Height: 6'10"  
\- Age: approx 200 (Earth) years old  
\- Marital status: not mated, his kind doesn't marry (mating pairs are rare, Yaut'ja females pick and choose their males, only the worthy reproduce)  
\- Current occupation: Booded sain'ja  
\- Former occupation: Youngblood, went on many 'lesser' hunts to prove himself worthy of a chiva. Former student of Iktaha'rg  
\- Appearance&Family: son of the honorable Nrachackt'ra, armor smith, who told him his father was a brave warrior who died with honor on a dangerous hunt before Hul'gkan was born.  
Green-gray skin with mottled charcoal speckles. Color lightens on his face, belly, palms, the soles of his feet and the insides of his thighs.  
Has very vivid green eyes like his mother.  
Earned six diagonal scars from a xenomorph on his chest during his chiva and several bullet-wound scars on his thighs.  
Smaller than most of his kind. Still very well muscled. Mesomorph. Relies more on agility than strength though he's by no means weak.  
\- Important relationships:  
• Nrachackt'ra - Bearer. Greatly admires and is grateful to her.  
• Iktaha'rg - Teacher. Holds great respect for him but is also growing tired of being treated like a pup. Not fond of the old man's jokes (since they're mostly at his expense).  
•Thei'dteinou - childhood playmate, adolescent training partner, Quatza-Rij hunt brother. Hul'gkan is jealous that his friend passed his chiva earlier than him.  
• The Preda-hound - Gift from his bearer. He'll never admit he cares about it.  
• The ooman/the little ape - Annoying. Disobedient. Slow. Worthy Living Trophy. 

Iktaha'rg

\- Height: 7'4"  
\- Age: approx 550-600 (Earth) years old  
\- Marital status: not mated, his kind doesn't marry (mating pairs are rare, Yaut'ja females pick and choose their males, only the worthy reproduce) Had a thing for Nrachackt'ra a long time ago.  
\- Current occupation: Elder sain'ja. One of the Wardens of Earth overseeing most of Canada.  
\- Former occupation: Teacher, Hunter, father of 83 of which 64 are still alive.  
\- Appearance&Family: Son of a Council member and a famed serpent hunter.  
Brown, earthy skin with creamy stripes on his legs and arms. Light brown face, belly and palms. Has many scars all over his body and a very distinctive burn mark on the right side of his face that trails down to his neck. Spiky. Graying tresses. Yellow-golden eyes.  
Big man - endomorph. Tank.  
-Important relationships:  
• Hul'gkan - Favorite student. Thought him a weak runt at first, not worth training but took him on as a favor for the pup's bearer. Quickly discovered his potential and became invested in his wellbeing after witnessing his determination and his constant struggle to succeed. Found him honorable and clever even in his young age. Was harshest with him to prepare him.  
• Nrachackt'ra - Friend and someone he greatly admires for her craftsmanship and ferocity.  
• Thei'dteinou - Wishes he was a little smarter. Good student overall.   
• Ze-rei'dekna - Indifferent towards her at first/only wanted to use her for Hul'gkan's benefit. Not impressed by the tomato but liked her defiance. Tries not to treat her as a pup. Fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> gkinmara = surveillance equipment
> 
> kjuhte = void
> 
> kv'var = hunt
> 
> s'em-te = (you) eat
> 
> naxa = a type of fruit
> 
> Ze-rei'dekna = Fire/Fiery Eyes
> 
> kehrite = dojo/training room
> 
> \---
> 
> The pose Allison was doing before getting interrupted was the eka pada rajakapotasana or the one-legged king pigeon pose - a notoriously difficult stance that requires a lot of preparation to achieve.


	6. Up to no good

Being trained like a dog wasn't so bad when Hulk wasn't actively treating her like one. Apparently the fruit incident had taught him a valuable lesson too.

Though she had no way to tell, it had felt as though weeks had passed since her abduction.

Her time was mostly spent learning difficult words and obeying Hulk's commands.

Nothing had changed the monotony up except for having her blood taken this 'morning' after the aliens had a galactic phonecall with someone else.

At first she had been reluctant to do more that what was asked of her and unwilling to have anything more to do with her captor than what he needed from her in order to finally leave her alone.  
With time her attitude had changed. The lack of human interaction, of sun and light and green things was getting to her.   
She would ask Hulk inane questions and even talk to the frog-dog, who she'd started calling Spike, just to hear someone speak (that wasn't guttural alien words). 

She had come to know the big men a little better simply because they were the only other living things present with her in this floating tin can prison.

She'd never been particularly social, enjoying solitude and time away from the big crowd of humanity that she used to live in, but these guys made loners like herself look downright desperate for company.

Hulk tended to tolerate her at best, he had no real interest in talking to her outside of whatever the fuck he was teaching her and making sure she got three square meals a day, enough sleep and didn't stop breathing.  
  
Gramps generally stayed out of their way, sometimes the two aliens talked but their conversations were usually short and tended to end in Gramps chittering at Hulk and her captor walking away in a huff.  
These aliens were shaping up to be the tall, dark and ugly silent types. 

Something told her the big old guy was the alpha around here, even the frog-dog lowered his big spiky head when Gramps was around. She'd quickly taken note and made certain to never be alone with the giant.

Oddly enough, Gramps seemed more curious than disdainful towards her.  
The big guy tended to always be present whenever Hulk taught her new things, like he was eager for something to happen.  
He seemed dissappointed when she'd end up doing whatever Hulk wanted without complaint (mostly for fear of getting smushed) and the shorter asshole was always smug about it.

Today, Hulk was teaching her general greetings and signs of respect and subservience in his culture. Alien diplomacy was complicated and, he claimed, vital for her survival. Not her favorite subject, for sure, but it gave her something to think about and do and someone to talk to so she mostly went along with it.

Not like she had much of a choice.

Spike, the frog-dog was a more pleasant companion than either of the aliens.  
At least _he_ was always happy to see her, especially if she sneaked him treats and gave him scratches.

They were in the 'kehrite' (their word for the dojo) practicing old commands she already knew and getting growled at for not being able to speak the strange alien language.   
Which was unfair since she was missing certain gross but key mouthparts.

Hulk repeated the difficult words for the tenth time. He was getting impatient with her.

<<Gkaun-yte. Yin'tekai-de. Sain'ja>> he enunciated slowly then clicked with a long-suffering sigh.

_Asshole_. she thought.   
As if _he_ were the victim here.

"Gukawoon-yeeteh yen'techai-des say-yah?" she tried mimicking the click of those creepy spider-tusks with a click of her tongue.

He grunted, wether it was approval or not was unknown. He perpetually seemed a little pissed with her. Apparently she wasn't learning as fast as he wanted.

She wondered what he was preparing her for. Was she going to meet their president or something?  
Jokes about 'take me to your leader', 'we come in peace' or the Vulcan salute popped into her head and she repressed a chuckle.

What if she threw away all his careful training and just said something in Elvish to them? She still remembered some words from when she was a teen and had read the books after her mother introduced her to the movies.  
Would they kill her? More importantly, would they kill Hulk?

Her idle thoughts were abruptly ended by Hulk smacking her upside the head with a loud slapping sound.

"Ow!" she whined and rubbed at her scalp.

He'd been doing that more and more recently. She hadn't done anything to really piss him off (like throwing fruit in his face) but sometimes she dared to play dumb or mix up words in a halfway believable way, or her mind would wander over why she needed to know certain things.  
She even got away with it… very rarely.

Sure, alien language and customs were interesting, but Allie had very few things left to her.   
Namely, her shoes and her unfaltering, irredeemable _spite_.

She'd always been stubborn, sometimes had trouble in school with certain subjects simply because the teacher was a shitheel and had made a quick enemy of her manager at work because she'd refused to play by his crappy rules.

Gemma had said she had unresolved anger issues.  
Maybe she'd had a point...

Allie had already figured out they wanted her alive and mostly unharmed, and she had a feeling they knew she knew too, or at least suspected.  
Testing the boundaries of her scary alien captors patience was probably a bad idea, then again, what else did she have?

It was likely why Gramps enjoyed sticking around for her lessons so much, now that she thought about it.   
Old man sure liked drama. 

Did aliens not have the equivalent of television?  
Or - _snerk_ \- space operas?

Hulk growled and she saw another smack coming but ducked fast enough that it barely glanced her.

She gave him a dirty look. This hitting her like she was a disobedient animal thing was getting tiresome.

Gramps trilled from where he was watching them while moving in very slow, deliberate flows (again in his undies, although she was used to it now, it had been distracting for a short while - that was when the smacks had started weeks ago).   
Hulk narrowed his beady green eyes at her and shifted on the balls of his feet.

Then he struck at her again, faster this time.  
Allie leaned back out of the way, his sharp claw barely missing her throat.

"What the fu-" she didn't have time to finish the curse, his other fist coming up from her right. She instinctively put her hands up to block and got thrown back by the force of his blow, landing hard on her ass.

Holy balls her arms ached something fierce! She should have just taken the smack upside the head.

Allie had no more time to lament her pains, Hulk was advancing on her, stomping on the soft wood and raising his foot up like he wanted to step on her again.

She squeaked and rolled out of the way, his foot falling heavily on the spot she'd just vacated. She could swear she saw dust spring up, but that might have just been her overactive imagination spurred by the dim light. The ship was somehow always immaculate.

"Why-"

<<Gkaun-yte.>> he said again in his deep, booming voice, and tried to smash both fists over her. She scrabbled out of the way, just barely.

"Wait-" She finally got her feet under her and got up.  
This wasn't right. Wasn't she supposed to be unharmed?   
She mentally cursed herself for her misunderstanding and assumptions.

<<Yin'tekai-de.>> he swung at her with the back of his hand.  
It was all she could do jump out of the way. 

"Ahh!" the tips of his fingers scratched at her shoulder and it _hurt_.

<<Sain'ja!>> Hulk turned and bullrushed her.   
She was too close.   
Too small.

Too slow.

He grabbed her and smacked her to the wall hard enough her teeth rattled.

She choked as he held her up by the neck, scratching at the thick skin of his wrist as her legs scrambled wildly in the air.

Allison swallowed the copper coating her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue or the insides of her cheeks. It was a little hard to get it all down with his big scaly hand chocking her.

Her vision swam into focus, Hulk's sharp mouth too close to her face.  
He hissed a half-remembered command.

She was supposed to speak. Speak about what?

He growled, hateful green stare boring into her like like jade on fire.

She repeated his words between gasps, he'd relented his grip on her throat just enough to allow it, some of her bloody spittle flew out with the harsher sounds.

He let her go suddenly and she crumpled to the floor, using the wall to steady herself.

Hulk rattled something nasty sounding at her, or maybe it was praise - she couldn't tell, all their words, especially the new ones, sounded like a curse - and turned his back on her.

She coughed feebly and sucked on her teeth. The salty taste came from her right cheek, she'd clenched her teeth over a bit of the thin, delicate skin there.

Gramps had ended his workout and chattered at Hulk who huffed and shook his head, making his long tubular hair slap around his wide shoulders.   
She had noticed that over time he'd added a few small metal and bone decorations to himself. Nothing like Gramps though.  
Were those some sort of status indicators?

She stopped pondering when they both turned their beady, luminous eyes to her.

Allie squared up and waited. If Hulk planned on slamming her around again, she needed to brace herself.

Gramps chittered his deep, humming laugh and vigurosly shook Hulk's shoulder, saying something else.  
She caught a couple of words she'd learned, something about 'fight' or 'fighter', 'training' and that strange word Gramps had called her when she'd almost had her face bitten off by Hulk after throwing him a fastball.

The rest was gibberish and she feared they planned on clobbering her for her disobedience. 

Hulk took in another deep breath, growling half-heartedly and Gramps said more. The word 'hunt' was in there and she was getting ready to bolt.

<<Ooman.>> Hulk started making her she jump a little.

He went to the center of the dojo, Gramps in tow. The older alien barked something to the room at large and the dim red lights glowed brighter, enabling her to see better.  
After so long in perpetual dusk her eyes had adjusted enough that this felt almost like a muddy sort of daylight.

She squinted but remained where she was. What were they playing at?

<<Watch. Learn.>> Hulk said in his harsh tongue as both he and Gramps assumed fighting stances.

Gramps moved his right fist in what looked like a jab in the same deliberate slowness of his practice moves and Hulk blocked it at the same speed.

Then Gramps swung his left fist in an exaggerated arc while moving his hips and changing his stance with the motion, all the while Hulk demonstrating how to step out of the way.

They continued miming a fight, repeating the same two moves a couple of more times, faster and faster, taking turns being on the defense and offense.

She tried not to wince at the sound of flesh being hit. What were these things made of? They didn't even flinch.

Allison watched, a little taken aback. This didn't seem like the kinds of stuff she was supposed to be learning. It sounded more like a spur of the moment thing.

The aliens straightened and Hulk bid her closer with his hand.

"Uh…"

Hulk frowned at her and she reluctantly obeyed, not keen on pissing him off again.

Gramps stepped away and crossed his large arms, watching her.

She swallowed as she took his place in front of Hulk and tried to imitate his posture when he clicked at her.

Gramps surprised her by tapping on her foot with his own scaly appendage to widen her stance.   
He circled them and continued tapping on her, correcting the height at which she kept her arms, the way her shoulders were placed and canting her hips more.  
The latter adjustment almost had her running. She hadn't really been touched (outside of smacks and petting Spike) since getting abducted and she did _not_ like having her waist or hips touched by strangers, let alone big, dangerous aliens.

It wasn't quite a boxer's stance, she had to keep her center of gravity lower, her knees bent more, legs spread wider making her muscles tense uncomfortably to keep it up.

Finally, Gramps nodded his approval and barked another word she didn't know.

Hulk made no move, looking down at her expectantly.  
Was she supposed to hit him?  
It seemed like a one-way ticket to getting knocked the fuck out.

Hulk lowered his arms a fraction and broke eye contact, chittering and growling at Gramps while jutting his chin out at her in derision.

Fucker was laughing at her again. Probably dissing her.

He wanted a fight?! _Fine_!

She jabbed up and sucker punched him square in his ugly chin, making his head jerk a little and probably bruising her knuckles.

The aliens stared at her. Hulk in slack-mandibled surprise and Gramps in what she assumed was pure, unadulterated glee or a constipation grimace. Probably the former.

She remembered there was a second part to this and swung her left in an arc, moving the rest of her body into it like she'd seen.

Hulk blocked her with a different move, catching her smaller fist in his hand and growling the word for 'stop'.

She gulped, her impulsivity was going to get her killed. She always made the wrong choices; straying off the path, challenging armed men and repeatedly pissing off the _scary fucking aliens_!  
What was _wrong_ with her?!

She mumbled a weak "S-sorry." and tried to tug her fist free. He let it go with another growl.

Gramps was probably repressing the mother of all guffaws for which she silently thanked the stars. Hulk never liked being laughed at even though he tolerated it from the big man. She feared he might take it out on her.

\----------

Hul'gkan worked his jaw and tusks. Her fists were small and while the hit hadn't been particularly strong, the reduced surface area where it had landed on was sensitive enough to sting. 

He was loathe to admit Iktaha'rg was right but perhaps Hul'gkan had underestimated her again.

It had been his own fault for not paying attention - _again_ , the practice match had not ended, she had been within her rights to still hit him. A rookie mistake on his part.

Iktaha'rg would hold this over him for the next hundred spans.

He readjusted his stance, vowing to never misjudge any opponent, weakling or not, like that for however many fights he'd be afforded in this life and the next. 

<<Begin!>> Iktaha'rg ordered, tone deceptively neutral.

Hul'gkan did not wait for her to go first this time, jabbing at her while broadcasting his intent like he would with a pup.  
The ooman tried to block, almost getting it right, and hissed in pain as he hit her already bruised forearms.  
He did not relent, following up with a swipe intended for her ribs.   
She dodged, just fast enough that he only touched her side.

The ooman grunted in pain anyway and tried to back away. 

He pressed the attack, since she did not seem as focused on fighting back, repeating the same two moves as the ooman flailed about, mostly trying to dodge him.

She incorporated other moves, sloppy, undisciplined and purely instinctual, into her continual retreat. He should punish her for disobeying the lesson parameters, but he wanted to see what else she could do when pressed.

There was some raw talent there and her body may have been slight but it was not as weak as he had first thought. 

Perhaps she would make an even better training tool if he showed her how to fight back along with wilderness survival lessons.

He hadn't even gotten started increasing his pace when the human fell after blocking another light blow, panting and sweating in exhaustion, calling for the match to stop.   
At least she had used the correct word this time, butchered as it was. She sounded worse than a toddler learning how to talk.

Hmm, endurance training was needed _first_. She wouldn't last a day on a proper hunt otherwise. 

<<Not completely useless…>> Hul'gkan grudgingly agreed with the Elder.

Iktaha'rg said nothing, departing the kehrite without a backwards glance.

Hul'gkan called the ooman to follow him to the medical bay. There was nothing to be done about her thin, soft skin. He would just have to heal her for every little scrape.

She was still catching her breath as she noisily trotted after him, the mesh working to cool down her surface temperature even during the fight was set up with her ideal ranges but did not account for ooman self-regulating capabilities. He would have to tweak it later. 

It would explain why oomans needed to eat and sleep so often. The little ape might eat less than a sixth of what an average yaut'ja ate in a sitting but she needed to replenish her energy at least three times during her day cycle while his kind only fed once every couple of cycles.

The end result was still less sustenance than he needed in a week but proportionately more for her size during the same amount of time. Ooman metabolism was not optimized to make use of everything they ate.

He could already hear her stomach rumbling. Physical activity would account for a larger caloric intake too.  
Iktaha'rg called her Fire Eyes but Hul'gkan found that Fire _Stomach_ was the more appropriate designation.

She winced though her treatment, sullenly looking everywhere but at him while perched, stubbly legs dangling back and forth like an impatient pup, on the bay's bed.

She was only a little less put off when he led her to the galley and motioned for her to prepare her own meal under his watchful gaze.   
He never let her handle knives or fire without him present. While not of the most intelligent species, she had already proven herself to be tricky and spiteful in nature.  
He would not risk her setting the ship aflame, or damaging equipment. Iktaha'rg would have _his_ hide for it.

She did not chatter at him as she usually did either, chosing in stead to quietly cook her meal and eat it.

It was a welcomed yet uncharacteristic silence.   
The small thing even conversed with the hound. Telling it endless tales of impossible feats and actions from quaint ooman entertainment media.   
She even _sang_ to it.

He would sometimes listen just to get a handle on her language. It was always better to learn by immersion than rely solely on the language pack (although it _did_ help with some of the less common words and expressions).

With him she would generally ask a myriad of questions about everything her fickle mind could come up with.   
His lack of answers had never deterred her from coming up with her own. Most of them wildly inaccurate and sometimes amusing to contemplate if only to understand what mental hoops she'd gone through to get to them.

By now she should have annoyed him into continuing their language lessons. She tended to stop asking stupid things when he spoke and he took advantage of her attention to steer her chaotic mind to something useful.

The ooman took her time searing some meat, letting the pieces cool while she cleaned and prepared the plant matter.  
She was completely ignoring him, refusing to even look towards his general direction.

It mattered not to him. As long as she was healthy and advanced her knowledge at a steady pace. They were nearing the Homeworld and he did not want her to embarrass him with her ignorance.   
Iktaha'rg had received a call from the Elder Physician, who had made the initial request for a specimen, barely a cycle ago.  
The Honored Je-st'sha're, a great huntress and learned woman, had requested more bloodwork be done after the initial batch of results they had sent was analyzed. She had sounded pleased with her findings and was eager for an update.

Hul'gkan could feel his excitement mounting. To win the favor a female Elder would mean the consideration of others as well.

He calmed himself, he had yet to present his prize - no sense in getting ahead of himself, and watched the ooman eat morosely.   
Such slow cumbersome creatures, how did they reign over everything else on their planet?

She fed even less than usual and got up to clean and put away the knife and fire-pit.

<<No.>> he ordered, stopping her in her tracks. <<Finish.>>  
She should know these words well enough by now.

"I'm not hungry." she murmured.  
He rattled a warning. She was supposed to use the yaut'ja language when spoken to, he'd already been lenient in the kehrite when she had slipped back to her own tongue.

<<No. Huungrr.>> she grunted out awkwardly.

<<Not hungry.>> he corrected, letting her repeat in her halting way.

She made to sidestep him but Hul'gkan put his arm out to block her, making her flinch back then square up and point the skinning knife at him.

He chuffed at her. She had likely misinterpreted his intention. Were it anyone else, he would have pummeled them into the ground. He'd taken on bigger and tougher opponents who had challenged or merely insulted him plenty of times.  
The knife wasn't even long enough to reach any of his vital organs, and he doubted she had the strength, or knew how to even stab it all the way through his hide and sever any tendons.

He put his other hand out in the most common ooman placating gesture, palm out and slowly patting the air.

<<No challenge.>> he said, attempting to be soothing and accidentally rumbled like he would for an angry wei-ghe'h.  
He stopped as soon as he realized his mistake, hiding the anger at himself for such a humiliating slip.

She relaxed her shoulders and lowered the knife, tilting her head in confusion.   
He pretended nothing was amiss and took the offered knife back, which she had presented to him hilt-first.

<<Why… battle…?>> she asked, slurring the words like she'd had too much cn'tlip.

He outright laughed this time, the spreading heat of her indignation provoking another bout. This close, he could see why Iktaha'rg had chosen the moniker.

<<The more skills you develop now, the more useful you will be to me in the future.>> he said, crossing his arms at her renewed confusion.  
How difficult was it to learn the most common yaut'ja dialect? He'd already picked up more of that accursed English just by hearing her talk (and she did usually talk - _incessantly_ ).

<<Defeat me. Learn.>> he continued, shrugging his shoulder as he'd seen her do. 

Her big eyes narrowed and heat took to her fleshy cheeks again. 

Hul'gkan put away the fire-pit and left the little ape to her own company just as she opened her mouth to speak, unwilling to be questioned or talked at any more. 

He'd never anticipated oomans could be so… chatty. He hadn't known anyone, not even pups when they were young and playful as he was during his infancy, to make so much noise.   
It was amusing at times… but _only_ to a point.

\----------

The ugly bastard left her alone again, showing her his back (she'd learned this was a form of disrespect for them by now) as he left the galley.

Defeat him? She couldn't even _dodge_ him, let alone land a solid hit, even if he was distracted!   
Her knuckles still smarted, even after he'd given her that wonderful healing gel to put on all her new scrapes and bruises.

She couldn't understand the purpose of whatever the fuck that had been in the dojo. Why teach her any fight moves at all if he could just swat her away like a fly?  
He was bigger, stronger, probably smarter (if only because of that big egghead of his) and better trained than she'd ever hope to be. 

Her defeating him was the equivalent of a mouse beating a goddamn mountain lion.   
_Impossible_.

Not for the first time, Allie wondered what cosmic injustice she had committed to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment.

Were they gonna use her like some sort of circus monkey?  
She'd heard them talking about the _ooman_ to another growly voice in the cockpit when she was supposed to be sleeping in 'her room' last night (she figured they let her use the medbay only because they had no need for it).  
Why learn tricks unless someone else wanted her to do them?

She'd ducked back into her room after the conversation ended with solemn barks of respect and then Hulk had come right to her and taken her blood with a scary looking syringe-gun-thing to then feed it into some machines he had activated with a wave of his gauntlet.

She whacked the table in frustration with her fist, instantly regretting the act and the pulsing pain.

Spike was probably already salivating by now, she'd go offer him the morsels of meat she'd saved.

The only being who liked her company was a goddamn _alien dog_ , and even _he_ had to be bribed with food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> Gkaun-yte Yin'tekai-de Sain'ja. = Greetings Honored Warrior. (Formal salute)
> 
> Je-st'sha're = one who manipulates shadow. The Elder Physician who sent the request. 
> 
> wei-ghe'h = woman/female
> 
> cn'tlip = an alcoholic drink/intoxicant
> 
> \---
> 
> Spike is a good boy.


	7. Winner take all

She knew it was D-Day when Hulk ordered her to get cleaned up before training even started.

The last couple of months had been miserable. Hulk had been keeping her on an intense learning and workout schedule.

She'd wake up, do her business in the bathroom, wash her face and rinse her mouth and mentally prepare for what came next.   
The lack of toothpaste and toothbrush had been a concern at first, but whatever purification system took care of the ship water also gave it some kind of cleaning qualities since her breath was always fresh after drinking it.   
(Did 'being an alien's pet' include a dental plan?)

After breakfast, the same boring food everyday, was the time for learning. Hulk would try to cram as many new words and behaviors into her head as he could. Sometimes he would include hand gestures but only for very simple actionable commands.  
The smacks were frequent though she had learned to dodge better.   
Blocking the light blows was a big no-no. If he considered her deserving of punishment, she didn't get to outright stop it - which she'd learned the hard way, of course.

After lunch she had a bit of time to herself in order to digest and relax a bit. That time was important, she usually got to spend it with Spike (bless his ugly broad toad face, he was the only one who didn't judge her and never snapped at her, who she could talk to freely) down in the cargo-hold and prepare her body for the next challenge. Her yoga stretches had now become more useful than ever.

She didn't always get to finish everything she'd set out to do by the time Hulk came down to fetch her for training, babbling about her never being on time or something like it. How he knew the exact moment she was supposed to start was still a mystery.

Then came the pain.

Hulk was worse than every middle and high-school coach she'd ever had put together. 

He had her doing laps around the ship and the dojo, hounding her to go faster while she huffed and puffed and he didn't even break a sweat ( _could_ he sweat?).

Then came the crunches and the pushups and a hundred other things she either had no name for or had forgotten about that had her feeling like a wet ragdoll by the time he was done torturing her.

After another short break during which her soul had the chance to catch up to her body came the fights. 

Even tired and spent, he'd have her repeating the same few moves every day, starting slow and getting faster untill he was satisfied with her form.  
Gramps sometimes jumped in to give her pointers too, especially if Hulk was testing her so called 'martial' skills by basically chasing her around the dojo and sometimes slamming her to the walls, the floor and one memorable time - the ceiling. 

All the while, Hulk would be talking to her in that horrible rough language, reminding her of the things she'd learned and practically beating his lessons into her exhausted brain and body. She figured he was being gentle about it but she didn't feel particularly coddled.

By the time dinner came she would be too tired to care about eating the same food again, wolf down some medium-done meat and raw fruit and vegetables then push herself to stay awake long enough to clean up (thankfully in private now) and do some muscle relaxant stretches.

She'd made the mistake of going to bed without those only a few times at the beggining of her new ordeal. It was a chore and a half to trudge through but it was better than the aches when she woke (she still ached of course but she knew it could be worse).

  
This morning had been different. Hulk had been more impatient than usual with her. Decked out in his shiny, skimpy armor, he'd barged in and woken her up early then barked at her to eat fast and wash up. 

He even took away her shoes! 

She hadn't understood his intent at first and ended up not so accidentally kicking him in the head when he reached down to remove them himself - which earned her an aggressive 'krr' and a pointed, clearly spoken order that she hurriedly obeyed.

He'd eventually left her in the bathroom with a grumbled order to wash, muttering something about the human being dumber than the hound. 

With no choice but to obey, she saw to her hygene, taking a quick bath and pulling her damp, slightly tangled hair (finger combing could only do so much) back in the best approximation of a French braid she could manage without a mirror or a brush then put on the metal loops to engage the mesh back on, wishing for her old, worn cotton tracksuit instead.

She was glad her hair had mostly chilled out. There had been a disgustingly greasy phase before her scalp got used to the lack of shampoo and conditioner.   
Whatever was in the water tended to clean up most of the oil but she'd found it also dryed her hair too much - which resulted in another greasy outbreak. It was a little rough on the skin too.  
Gently finger-combing her hair from the base down while her fingers were wet with the blueish soup was enough to clean it up. She then used normal water to rinse out.

Barefoot and afraid, she had slowly walked up to the cockpit.   
Looking out into the void of space was terrifying and calming at the same time now, and she hadn't managed to get more than occasional glimpses during breaks lately.

Gramps was sitting in his throne and she only hesitated for a moment before he chuffed and beckoned her in with a lazy wave of his huge, scaly hand. She'd gotten more used to him, and no longer feared being alone in the same space together.  
He was still as huge and imposing as always but Gramps had actually made more of an effort to be liked than Hulk. Reigning the younger one in whenever he got too rough or impatient and sometimes even giving praise in her own language if she ever performed better than usual.

The vista outside of the ship was magnificent.

She'd seen pictures of Earth transmitted by drones on Mars and the Moon or sent by astronauts from their stations and the last transmissions from the space exploration missions that had left some months before she'd been abducted but… nothing compared to seeing a planet from the outside with her own eyes. 

She got closer to the transparent glass, she still hadn't learned what it was called, and watched in awe as they slowly passed by another planet, half-lit by the two orange suns behind the small rock they were going towards.

They must have been moving quite fast.  
  
Allie had always loved the night sky and she'd had a Space-Phase as a child but she barely remembered anything she'd learned about it.  
She knew the constellations and how to travel following the stars but who knew if they were even in the same galaxy.

The brown rock ahead of them was currently the size of both her fists put together and was surrounded by a messy, diffuse ring.   
She wondered what their stars looked like at night.   
Would she get to live that long? For all she knew, Hulk had been tenderizing her for a big ole' stew.

With a pang of grief, she realized that even if she lived through the day she'd never see _her_ night sky again. Ever.

The mottled brown planet was getting gradually bigger, her nerves fraying a little more with every inch the ship got closer.

It was so big… was it bigger than Earth? Would she be able to walk on it or get crushed by a stronger gravitational pull?  
Would the two suns blister the skin off her flesh?  
Maybe the aliens were primarily nocturnal…

She watched the planet as it grew, dominating the entire visual range of the small ship.

A beep interrupted her trance and she turned to see Gramps answering a call, a faintly projected, red-tinged hologram appearing before him and another masculine voice growled difficult words.   
She'd gotten better at understanding the language, but this was fast-paced and not aimed at teaching.   
She got the gist of it though, this was some sort of alien flight control check. 

Hulk had also joined them, standing behind his better with one hand braced on the top of his throne. She got the distinct impression he'd been watching her but now seemed intent on listening to the hologram's garbled speech.

The first conversation ended quickly and another started immediately after.

Allie got closer to the strange projection. She could feel that the air was warmer the closer she got to it.  
 _What did they see?_ she wondered.

This voice had a different quality. Smoother, with an almost purring undertone to it.  
The two big aliens were reacting differently to it too.   
Hulk stood ramrod straight and puffed up his chest while Gramps shifted in his throne to stand a bit more upright compared to his bored slouch from earlier.

They bowed their heads and pumped their right fists over their sternums twice in a sign of respect when it was over.   
She'd understood more this time, it had sounded like a formal greeting and invitation.

The ship rumbled and she was instructed to take one of the two seats hugging the wall on either side of the entrance behind Gramps' throne. Not keen on getting thrown around like a pinball during reentry, she jogged to the nearest one and sunk in the soft gel-like padding, her feet no longer touching the floor.  
Hulk took the other, laughing at how ridiculous she no doubt looked in the oversized seat.

Dark elastic belts snaked out and secured them all then the ship rumbled and she stared, open-mouthed, as they entered the atmosphere.  
For a short while everything was red then incandescent white making her close her eyes and shield her face. Once the turbulence evened out she opened her eyes to see the heat had cleared as they passed through creamy clouds.

A great jungle spanned the equator in an even ribbon of dense foliage. She was surprised it was so _green_.

There were active volcanoes spitting up smoke between the poles and the equator, with deep canyons of red rock cracking the soil in irregular patterns.

As the ship brought them closer to the jungle, she saw great pyramids cresting the treetops. Sharp, golden light reflected off the tops.

They landed on the outskirts of the jungle, on a step pyramid that reminded her of old Aztec or Mayan constructs she'd learned about while growing up, only this one was impossibly bigger and infinitely more complex.

There were other ships coming and going in a flurry of activity too. She watched a giant mothership pass them by, feeling like a shrimp swimming next to a blue whale.

The pyramid itself had a myriad of moving parts, most of them floating. A long, wide corridor closer to ground level led into the jungle and tall tower-like constructs which emitted a strong light upwards pierced through thin clouds.

She was certain this was merely one spaceport on the planet. And it was huge. Incomprehensively so.

Gramps landed them on one of the smaller platforms, the ship setting down with barely a tremor.

Hulk was excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet, almost like a little kid.  
He was usually so solemn and quiet when he wasn't badgering her to learn something new, the difference in temperament was more alien than the creature himself.

Gramps quieted him down with a friendly shake of the shoulder and a some rumbled words she didn't catch (probably 'Don't blow this.' or something).

Her captor nodded and turned to her, bidding her forward.  
Before she knew what he was doing, he'd clipped some sort of leash on her neck and tied it off at his belt. On the opposite side hung the gleaming white oblong skull he'd taken from another one of the black things, the _kainde amedha_ , similar that to the monster that had almost killed her.

"What the hell?!"

<<Quiet.>> he rumbled dangerously.

"Is this really necessary?" 

Hulk only krr'd at her, as usual.

<<Why... trap?>> she grumbled out, using the closest word she knew that reflected her current situation.

He started forward and dragged her along. She gave up struggling after a few useless tugs and stayed close, giving the leash some slack.  
<<For your own safety.>> he said, finally.

<<Danger?>>

He harrumphed like she was a moron.   
She'd been told at one point that she was considered 'Worthy Prey' so she could only infer that her presence might incite other Hunters.

Many of her lessons had been focused on the correct way to act in this alien society; avoid eye contact, no baring teeth, don't show fear, never turn your back on anyone since she was barely above a 'servant', and never speak unless directly addressed.

She gulped while trying to stretch out the leash around her neck. It was a strange, less flexible suede like material.   
They were nearing the cargo hold. Frog-dog whined from his cage and Hulk quieted him with a high whistling sound.

Allison squared her shoulders and stared ahead, repeating the rules to herself as the bay door opened, bright light spilling in and tall, creeping silhouettes throwing long shadows at even intervals.

\----------

Hul'gkan proudly stepped down the ramp. His awu'asa was cleaned, oiled and shined, his scars were worthy and his gleaming chiva trophy, proof of his success, was strapped to his belt.

There was a small crowd waiting for them in a semi-circle beyond the landing pad, most were curious onlookers, drawn by the presence of more than one female. He recognized one of his surviving hunt brothers from his lesser hunts before the chiva.   
Thei'dteinou, the big oaf who he had hunted the Quatza-Rij with all those spans ago was waving from behind the crowd, dwarfing everyone else.

He trilled in pleasure at his bearer, silently staring at him from the edge of the gathering with her shoulders pulled back in pride. He hadn't expected her to be present. Last he'd heard, she was away on a hunt for materials.

The most important greeters though, were the Elder Physician and her entourage. All female except for the four honor-guards flanking them, setting them apart from the crowd. Not that the females really needed guards, they were only there as a demonstration, to accentuate the Elder Physician's standing.   
The pecking order among mixed clans often needed such shows of strength and while females rarely battled each other for better standing like the males often did, they still liked boasting.

Both he and Iktaha'rg bowed their heads and thumped their chests in respect.

<<Congratulations on your successful chiva. I hear you were the only one to come out alive.>> the Elder Physician Je-st'sha're greeted.   
Her eyes danced over Iktaha'rg and Hul'gkan in turn, then fixed on the little ooman beside him.

<<My thanks, Honored Elder.>> he puffed up and tensed his muscles, unable to resist showing off with so many females present.  
Yaut'ja capable of producing offspring were rare, less than a quarter of the entire population, and wielded most of the political power. To have so many here, for him, was a novelty. And an opportunity.

<<Is this my specimen?>> she purred and boldly approached him, setting a long, elegantly clawed hand on his shoulder, one finger trailing up to touch at his tresses slowly.

The ooman made no noise and obediently remained by his side, taking care not to meet anyone's eyes just as he'd instructed. Her heart beat was abnormally high, but that was to be expected when surrounded by so many warriors.

<<My Living Trophy.>> he rumbled back, trying not to let himself be distracted by the Elder's light caress. He had to pick his words carefully. He did not wish to gift the ooman, only lend it. The request permitted it.  
A Living Trophy meant he wished to keep the little ape.  
And above that, it meant he would have regular access to it which would in turn put him in contact with the rest of the females who would be using his possession.

Je-st'sha're tilted her head, a clear prompt to continue that also showed off her noble profile as she towered over him.

<<I offer her body for your use as requested and respectfully ask it be returned to me whole at the end of the season.>> he rattled off the speech he'd prepared, his voice stuttering with a rough purr when the Elder Physician gripped one of his tresses between two warm digits.

The Elder shifted her stance, looking between he and his trophy with a low growl. She was displeased, but he was within his rights and hadn't overstepped.  
He felt the prick of her claws puncturing the tress they had been holding, then rub the hot thwei on the sensitive hide there. A provocation and a proposition rolled in one.

His blood boiled at the prospect of mating such a woman.

<<Are you _certain_?>> she asked, still with that low, seductive purr that clouded his higher faculties. <<Have you such a need of it that a gift to the Sciences is beyond consideration?>>

Hul'gkan felt Iktaha'rg's eyes on him.  
He squeezed his fists tight enough to scratch his palm with his claws, the small flashing pain taking his attention off the spicy h'dui'se she was stealthily releasing.

He fought not to give into his own dai-shui, that would be humiliating. All eyes were on him.

He would not fall to such manipulation, even if it cost him her consideration, there was a bigger prize in waiting and Hul'gkan was used to waiting and _earning_ everything worthwhile in his life.

<<She is Worthy Prey. I plan on making her worthier, for my own hunts and others.>> he gritted out, tamping down on all his instincts.

<<A learning tool? Not unheard of…>> she hummed deep in her throat. <<Following Honored Iktaha'rg's footsteps, or hoping to surpass him?>> she turned her attention to his right, releasing his tress with one last caress.  
<<What do you say, Honored Warden of N'ithya?>> she asked Iktaha'rg.

The old hunter rumbled his pleasure at being addressed and Hul'gkan resisted the urge to snarl. His pride was salved that the Elder Physician chose not to touch his former teacher as she had touched him

<<Little Fire Eyes has… potential.>> he answered after some deliberation. <<She has proven to be sly in her initial escape and has the spirit of a fighter.>>

<<It _escaped_ you?>> Je-st'sha're asked with renewed interest, fixing the ooman with her heated stare again.  
The leash tensed minutely, but the ooman did not attempt to flee.

<<Used a waterfall to shake me off.>> Hul'gkan answered, still feeling the sting of his initial failure. It had yet to prove fortuitous.

<<Fascinating.>> she purred. <<What else did it do?>>

<<She learns fairly quickly, be it teachings of the mind or the body…>> he grumbled and added <<for an ooman…>> as an afterthought.

<<And this fighter spirit?>>

Hul'gkan and Iktaha'rg shared an amused glance above the little ape's head.

<<She has a propensity towards striking when the target of her ire is distracted.>> Hul'gkan answered diplomatically.

<<And very good aim.>> Iktaha'rg added with an amused chitter.

Hul'gkan hoped the old man wouldn't tell _that_ particular story, Iktaha'rg had been hit by a fruit too after all… although she _had_ been aiming for the younger hunter.

<<Fascinating…>> Je-st'sha're repeated.  
The Elder brought up her gauntlet computer and scrolled through some of the results they had sent. It was obviously only for show but it gave her and the audience a pause in which to consider.  
<<The initial bloodowork shows promise. It seems adequate for our needs.>> she concluded.  
<<I accept your offer.>> Je-st'sha're said and Hul'gkan felt the relief all the way to his toes and the tips of his tresses.

<<Join me at the Sciences building, I believe a tour of our facilities are in order since you will be… visiting.>> she offered, just as he had aimed.  
<<My team and I will be waiting for you and the subject on our transport. You may follow us at your leisure. I can see your chiva brought you _much_ esteem.>> she waved towards the rest of the crowd. 

He wasn't certain how sincere that was, more than half these yaut'ja were here for _her_.  
<<Do not linger overmuch.>> she added in a low tone and left with her assistants and honor guard procession trailing behind and around her in a neat formation.

One of the females who had been eyeing him up the whole time gave him a lingering backwards stare over her shoulder. She shared features with the Elder Physician, must have been related somehow.

Iktaha'rg shook his shoulder in congratulations and left him to speak to a group of Elites. Former students, most likely.

Hul'gkan's eyes were still glued to the group in front of him that drew everyone's attention as it descended the wide stairway.

He heard the ooman yip just before a violent shake rattled the brains in his skull.

<<Moving up in the world, _Short Staff_?>> Thei'dteinou asked.

<<Watch it.>> Hul'gkan growled, squeezing the offending wrist untill the big oaf retreated with a small sound of pain.

<<Glad to see you Blooded, Hunt Brother.>> he added more respectfully.

Thei'dteinou and he had trained together in their early infancy and were sent along with another peer (who neither of them spoke of now) on their first real hunt.   
A rite of passage for adolescent hunters where they had earned their ceremonial masks - provided they reach the appropriate experience, and the right to continue onto their chivas.  
Thei'dteinou had received the call for his chiva much earlier than Hul'gkan, although they were of the same age and almost the same skill - it had been a blow for Hul'gkan to be overlooked in favor of his Hunt Brother even though the smaller male had won a higher percentage of their friendly matches together and even accumulated more lesser trophies than most of his peers had. All because the Council thought him weaker due to his size, or perhaps expected him to continue growing...  
For a while, his resentment had soiled the friendship.

<<And I, you, mei'hswei.>> Hul'gkan answered fondly.

<<I will leave you to your bearer before she kicks me out of the way. Seek me out later. We're due for a hunt! And a drink!>> his friend shook him one last time and scampered off. He'd always had a healthy respect for the Honorable Nrachackt'ra, Hul'gkan's bearer.

The young hunter turned to greet his mother last as she graced him with a quick embrace and then held him out at arms length by both shoulders to look him over.

Her favor towards a male offspring was unusual in their culture.  
Generally, bearers only took care of their pups untill they were fit to be sent on their first proper hunt. They would train and educate their offspring in the same manner regardless of gender untill they were old enough to be taught of the multiple paths available to them.   
The children who could bear pups were later given additional tutelage. 

Nrachackt'ra had held a lingering attachment to Hul'gkan who was her last-born.  
As of the last fifty or so spans, the natality rate of his kind had been dwindling. Seeing young pups wasn't that rare yet but was increasingly becoming akin to a good luck charm.

His bearer would sometimes show up after his more difficult hunts, proud of his victories and had fulfilled his request for the splendid awu-asa he was equipped with at no cost to him.   
He owed her a great deal, and made a point to present her with rare and valuable raw materials whenever he downed a creature whose parts she could use in her craft.

<<Impressive scar.>> She traced the six claw marks left by the kainde amedha across his chest. <<I trust the awu-asa served?>>

<<The best I could ask for.>> he bowed his head in respect.

<<You come bearing more trophies than anyone expected...>> her eyes slid to the little ape, now peering curiously at the two of them. Her anxiousness seemed to have abated, likely recognizing the resemblance between mother and son and concluding she wasn't as much of a threat.  
Not completely inaccurate, if misguided. His bearer could skin an ooman before they took their last breath.

<<You always _did_ like overachieving.>> she mused with a teasing chitter.

He merely growled in reply, earning himself more laughter.

She quieted after a few heartbeats and bent closer to him.

<<Watch yourself around the Elder Physician. She is cunning and cruel. I know not why you have tangled yourself up in her schemes, but be wary.>> she warned solemnly, tone hushed so only he could hear.

Hul'gkan nodded, taken aback. What did his bearer know of that he didn't?

<<You should go, do not make her wait.>>

He put out a halting hand and his bearer paused as he pulled out the teeth and claws he had saved for her.

<<A gift, for the armor and your wisdom.>> he offered formally.

Nrachackt'ra stared at the small leather pouch in his hand for a beat before opening it to peer inside. 

<<More than one th'syra?>> she asked as she pocketed the gift.

<<Only the skull I took was a true defeat. This one was… aided.>> he said with a sideways glance at the wide-eyed ooman.

His bearer reached out with a sharp claw to tilt the little thing's face up, forcing their gazes to meet.   
Hul'gkan held his breath for a second as the ooman fiercely stared back at his bearer then averted her eyes at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding a direct challenge.

<< _Fascinating_ …>> his mother mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> kainde amedha = xenomorph/alien/serpent
> 
> awu'asa = armor
> 
> Quatza-Rij = one of the fiercest creatures native to Yautja Prime. Traditionally significant to some clans. Young hunters track one in packs of three, working together to defeat it and be recognized as adults before being eligible for their chiva.  
> A ceremonial mask can be crafted from it's skin and bones and is worn by Elders during the chiva initiation ceremony. It symbolizes unity and teamwork. Not a hunting mask.
> 
> h'dui'se = scent
> 
> dai-shui = musk (in relation to mating)
> 
> N'ithya = the planet humans call Earth
> 
> mei'hswei = brother
> 
> th'syra = trophy skull
> 
> \---
> 
> Nrachackt'ra - relentless blade
> 
> \---
> 
> Hul'gkan is a total mama's boy.


	8. Leave my body

Allison's knees went a little gummy as she descended the wide ramp, using Hulk's bulk to hide.

They had an audience waiting for them.

It took seeing the huge rattle-snake patterned one coming towards them like it owned the place for the fact that she was on an another planet surrounded by Big Honking Aliens to really sink in.

She kept her eyes neutrally ahead, avoiding eye contact even though the huge thing was staring right at her.  
It was so BIG, bigger than Gramps even!

There was something slightly different about this one and the group behind it. Still big and muscular but the chest covering was a tad bumpy and the waist was a little narrower while the hips were wider.  
Could this be one of their women?  
Or their version of amazons?

These things had _huge_ women...

She noticed the small group of females behind snake-lady were taller than most of the other men too (except the giant fiddly one way in the back).

Hulk was the shortest of the aliens present.   
Was he the manlet equivalent of his species? She almost grinned at the thought.

Snake-lady purred and rattled at Hulk. It all sounded so different than how Gramps and him talked. Almost… flirty...

 _Gross_.

Allie didn't like the way Snake-lady looked at her, like she was a tasty morsel after weeks of starvation.

And she definitely did not like how weird Hulk was acting. Practically falling over himself while Snake-lady barely touched him.

 _Wait_.

Was she some sort of… aprhodisiac?   
Was that why he'd had her trained…

Oh God, was she going to die by alien snoo-snoo?!  
Or would they grind her bones to dust?

She tried to back away, almost forgetting the leash but catching herself before she made a scene.   
Drawing attention to herself seemed like a bad idea.   
Snake-lady was the only one really looking at her anyway, although Hulk was getting attention from everyone and was absolutely basking in it.

Allison could understand enough of the conversation to figure she was important to the big woman, especially after Gramps praised her like she was a fine pony on a show.

Were they selling her?   
Hulk had told her she wasn't a slave or a servant, would that change if someone else took her?

She couldn't believe herself but she hoped he wouldn't. At least with Hulk, she'd learned what to expect from him. Going through all that again with another alien of unknown temperament that had nothing to gain by keeping her alive was a frightening prospect.

Snake-lady seemed a little miffed at her captor but her answer was positive and pleased Hulk.  
Allison sighed in relief when the strange new alien finally backed away with her possé. That had been _intense_.

The big wall of muscle in the back was now steadily advancing towards her, his beady red eyes intent on Hulk.

She couldn't help the squeak of surprise when he got too close for comfort and shook Hulk like a toy.

She'd never expected the irritable ass to have a friend, even among his own kind. Apparently violence was a way for these things to show affection too. They'd called each other 'brother' although they were visually as far removed from each other as she was from a professional body-builder.

Last came another one of the big women, who was dark green and speckled gray like Hulk. They also shared the same luminous green eye color.   
The open affection between them was startling. She'd never taken Hulk for a hugger.

After exchanging a few words and a small leather pouch, the new female turned her attention towards Allison, making the small human tense at the cold touch of wicked claws under her chin.  
Allie had no choice but to look up, watching the jade of the alien's eyes dance in the full daylight. There was a mix of anger and fear swirling in her gut and she belatedly remembered to break eye-contact, thankfully fast enough that those claws didn't shave her face clean off.

She'd have to ask Hulk what that word both his relative and Snake-lady had said meant. Provided she got to talk to him any time soon.

Being treated like an accessory was getting really old, really fast.

\----------

The spaceport looked even bigger on the inside than on the outside. Tall arching ceilings with elegantly sculpted support pillars and wide walkways so smooth she could probably slide on them if she still had her sneakers.

It wasn't particularly pleasant to walk on, but at least she wouldn't get injured.

Her presence attracted some attention as she trotted behind Hulk and Gramps, careful to keep her eyes forward and firmly at chest (or lower) level.

Growled conversations stopped as the three of them passed.

There were so many of them... all big and imposing yet different from each other with wide arrays of varying skin colors and patterns. 

She felt like a mouse in a cattery, all it took was one hungry cat and she'd be no more...  
She sped up and hung closer to the her captors, practically walking on their heels. 

She had to watch her footing so she didn't accidentally step on them, the last thing she wanted was to be pushed away for being clingy.   
The leash felt more and more like a line with a her as the bait on the hook.

She almost got elbowed in the face by Gramps when he stopped in front of a metallic pod-thing. Snake-lady was waiting inside.

Hulk pulled her away just in time by the neck, making her choke.

Gramps gave Hulk another hearty shake by the shoulder, wishing him well and inviting him over to spar when he had time, then his burnt gold eyes turned to her and he patted her head like a dog.  
She ducked under his arm and glared at him, earning an amused chuff.

<<Serve well, Fire Eyes. You might yet live to see a hunt.>> he said and stepped away, letting Hulk pull her in the waiting pod with an unamused chuff.

She wondered if she'd ever see the old alien again. She'd almost become… _fond_ of him.   
Or maybe just familiar and afaid of the unknown.

The door slid closed and Allison tried to ignore the giants staring at her from the side, she could see them all reflected in the pod's curving gray window. In stead of cowering like she wanted to, she chose to admire the alien architecture as they left the huge spaceport and slid along magnetic rails down the wide strip of road leading into the jungle she'd seen while landing.

The trees were gargantuan, hiding other, smaller pyramids, tucked between them.   
They travelled along forking parallel highways, seemingly going straight through the jungle to the other side. She could barely feel the movement.

How could beings so advanced be so barbaric?

The reflected figures gradually lost interest in her and she sensed Hulk relaxing next to her. His anxiousness had been putting her on edge too, whatever spooked him automatically meant bad news to her.

The ride was over too soon and the pod slowed and came to rest in another port so seamlessly she only felt a slight tug forward just before it stopped.

Snake-lady motioned them out together and Hulk fell into step next to her.   
Allie kept up behind them, this time letting as much distance between her and the big woman as she could, which put her uncomfortably close to the silent, masked guards.  
Each of the four warriors wore the same kind of shiny, ceremonial armor and brandished really long spears with wicked, barbed tips.  
One of them noticed her peeping and his head bent towards her. She saw the yellow flash of his eyes fixing her with an angry look and heard a low growl of warning.

She turned her eyes forward in submission.

They were led down another smooth road, this one looked more like tightly packed dirt than the stone the buildings were made of. They passed square buildings and other pyramid shaped dwellings along the way.

The city cut a neat line into the jungle, just like the magnetic road they'd come through.

The two suns beat down on her head and back harshly. Her dairk hair heated up her scalp and she was already covered in a thin sheen of sweat.   
The air here was similar to what she'd breathed on the ship, heavy and a little muggy, except she could smell the greenery, the dust in the air, the rich soil and humidity from the jungle.   
Now that she could see her own skin more clearly, she realized how pale it had become. Her healthy bronze was gone. She hoped they'd let her out into the sunlight, wherever they were taking her.

Hulk did not attempt to speak to Snake-lady and she seemed indifferent to his presence as she led the way.  
Allie took the chance to surreptitiously examine the other women of the group from under her eyelashes, turning her head a fraction.  
They looked younger and weren't as tall as the big woman.   
Perhaps these aliens grew in height with age?   
It didn't explain the wall of muscle, Hulk's 'brother', from earlier, so - probably not.

One of them in particular, the second in command from the way the others treated her, had similar rattle-snake patterns with the leader but her coloration was more faded and paler on her belly, palms and the insides of her thighs.  
She had been the one eyeing Hulk like he was a piece of meat when they'd landed.  
Now she was looking at Allie with unmistakeable hunger in her eyes. 

Hulk pulled her closer to him, possibly sensing the same intent, as they entered another giant construct.

She tried counting her steps and marking all the turns and stairs they took in her head but lost track by the time they reached an elevator of sorts - a raising platform - which took them to the upper part of the pyramid.

Snake-lady was talking now, showing Hulk various rooms and areas of the upper floor. The place was filled with all sorts of complicated looking machines, it reminded her of the medbay on the ship but on a much bigger scale.

She gulped, throat suddenly dry. This was it. She was either getting probed or dissected. Or both. 

Hulk turned to her while Snake-lady was still growling difficult words and something about kch-s'ke'i - which she knew went along the lines of 'cleansing' or 'purifying' - and undid the strap at her neck, wrapping up the leather string around his hand.

Allison felt the warm presence of another behind her and froze, looking up at Hulk with pleading eyes.

<<Me… here… leave?>> she managed. Their language was made even more difficult to grasp because of the word order.

She knew she'd made a mistake speaking out of turn, but she was afraid and desperate and expecting to die soon anyway.

The alien behind her chittered in amused interest, it was the second in command, Snake-sister.

<<You've taught it our language?>> she asked. Her voice was a little higher pitched compared to Snake-lady, friendlier even.

\----------

<<She knows _some_ things.>> Hul'gkan nodded.   
<<Still a rude primitive.>> he muttered under his breath while stowing the leather strap away. He had told her, repeatedly, not to speak out of turn. Stupid ooman.

Vay'n'ritja, a younger cousin who shared the same thirst for knowledge and an Ancient grandmother with the Elder Physician, was also an attractive woman. A hunter in her own right with more trophies that Hul'gkan, even though her status was already high enough she did not require them.

<<Impressive learning capacity, an aggressive attitude when provoked, adaptive thinking and an independent streak.>>  
she hummed and fiddled with her wrist computer.  
<<You've brought us the ideal specimen.>> she purred.

Hul'gkan puffed up his chest at the praise, ignoring the little stab of guilt at the ape's pitiful, insistent staring.

<<I am honored to serve.>> he replied.

<<Why do you _really_ wish to keep it?>> she looked at him with interest.

This again? He repressed the angry growl at being interrogated, unwilling to shatter his chances with a female despite already stating his intentions clearly.

<<It is as I have already said.>>

<<I have heard of this tactic before… but what if our experiments change it?>>

Hul'gkan stepped in front of his property, he did not like unspoken threats to himself or his belongings.

<<Speak plainly.>>

Vay'n'ritja chittered at him and he grit his tusks.

<<Do you know why we wanted an ooman female from their homeworld and not one of the aseigan or one from the game-planets?>> she asked as she lightly placed a paw on his shoulder.

Hul'gkan narrowed his eyes up at the female, waiting for her to continue.  
He could not see the ooman, but felt her small, cold fingertips touch his back.

Vay'n'ritja snorted at his lack of response, tapping her claws on his pauldron.

<<Genetic diversity. >> she stated, her eyes darting behind him. <<It may very well be the key to saving our->>

<<Cousin.>> Je-st'sha're interrupted. <<Won't you prepare our subject?>>

<<If I may be permitted, what will you do to my Trophy?>> he asked, taking care not to sound petulant or angry.

<<You may not. For the duration of our procedure, it is ours to do with as we please.>> the Elder said.

<<As long as she remains whole.>> Hul'gkan reminded.

<<Of course. It may even be improved.>> Vay'n'ritja boasted.

<<What ->>

<<Enough. You have delivered the subject, you may visit it and check on its wellbeing every full day and full night.>> the Elder commanded. 

Hul'gkan nodded curtly, the Elder was fully within her rights to kick him out, but that didn't mean he liked it.

He stepped away from Vay'n'ritja, mindful not to show his back and put a hand on the ooman's shoulder, jerking her back and forth a little to sow some courage.

<< _Behave_. They will not harm you. Remember your lessons and practice. I will come back in…>> he paused to calculate the time in a way she understood. <<… around ten of your sleep cycles.>>

Little Fire Eyes was subdued in her acknowledgement but he could see the anger in her. She did not like this arrangement.

Her feelings were irrelevant, he would get her back and take her flighty mind off this whole process with rigurous training. He looked forward to setting her loose in one of the safer reserves and seeing if she could provide an even better challenge than last time, once the females were done of course.

He hoped she wouldn't slack off too much and lose what little stamina and crumbs of skill he'd taught her so far, but he could rectify it even if she did.

He left the laboratory with a final rattle, the ooman would be fine, he had his new ship to claim, his trophies waiting to be set and a night of celebrating with his old Hunt Brother ahead of him.   
He might even have time for a hunt or two before he returned.

\----------

Hulk left her with one last incline of his head that went mostly ignored.

The guards had remained outside and the women surrounded her, clicking up a storm as they talked to each other, too fast for her to keep up with.

Snake-sister chirped to get her attention and motioned for her to come. Allison had no choice but to obey, solemnly following the big alien to whatever fate awaited her.

She was made to lay on a high bed with her right arm held out, palm up.  
The alien woman took one of those syringe guns again except that the needle on this thing was way bigger than anything Hulk had ever used. She tried to get away but the big alien just held her by the elbow as she uselessly jiggled her shoulder.

Then it did something weird.  
It… _purred_.

Allison didn't know if tigers could purr but this was the sound she would associate with it, low and growly, pleasant and unexpectedly soothing. It resonated in her head, made her heartbeat slow and the fear fade.

The alien was holding the device up, trying to put her at ease, petting up and down her arm slowly.

Snake-sister pointed a claw at the fleshy part of her upper arm right where her contraceptive implant was.  
The syringe gun got near enough to spray something numbing on her skin, then Snake-sister gently cut a vertical line into the epidermis and used the device to quickly suction the implant out.  
A small application of the healing gel had the scratch already starting to heal.

Allison laid her head back on the bed with a heavy thump, stomach roiling at the implication.  
More blood was taken from the inside of her elbow and then she was left alone.

\----------

Allie's initial fears turned out to be unfounded.

For what felt like the first four days (although the suns never set completely and the amount of time there was light out was far longer than the dark), all they did was take her blood and leave her mostly alone.  
The next few 'days' she got one shot after each breakfast in the muscles of her thighs from Snake-lady herself.

She got three square meals a day and was allowed to wander the laboratory and the room she slept and ate in but was forbidden from entering other restricted rooms - which was most of them.

The day and night cycles of this planet were strange.  
It was never fully night, more like a dark dusk with maybe an hour of actual night. There was no moon visible but she could see the ring of asteroids she'd spotted from space arching over the planet like the biggest rainbow.   
She was glad she wasn't stuck inside and had access to the big balconies lining the pyramid. She could see the city and the jungle, watch the aliens go about their day - it looked almost normal from so high up.

Sometimes she'd see other forms darting about at the edges of the streets. She'd thought those might have been their children at first glance but saw that they were shaped differently from the aliens who took her. And they acted far too meek to be anything like them too.  
With mounting dread she'd realized that some of them were human while many others were of completely different species.

Her earlier wish for company in this miserable existence felt even more selfish and cruel.   
She wondered how many alien species were out there. Were they all victims of the hunter race?

  
Midday was impossible for her to bear, she'd gotten a sunburn just from being exposed for a few minutes, the air danced with heat and she could barely breathe it when she was outside. She usually chose to spend that time indoors, where there was some form of climate control, and work on her calisthenics.  
She figured Hulk would be displeased if she lagged behind too much and while the alien women hadn't done anything too weird to her, she didn't entirely trust they wouldn't start.   
She knew she didn't stand a chance to fight them off, but it made her feel a little safer so she kept at it.

At least Hulk had always been honest about what he wanted from her. These women weren't interested in teaching her any new words of their complicated language and generally ignored her while doing their tests.

Allie had tried to get some answers but the reactions had varied from outright dismissal to angry hisses.   
She'd stopped being nosy after almost getting her hand crushed because she'd dared to peek at the red glowing readings on one of their portable scanning devices.

Hulk came to see her around the time he'd promised he would, which was also during the hottest day she'd endured, but he was more preoccupied with puffing up for the female aliens than he was with her wellbeing.

And to think she'd actually been _happy_ to see him! 

She must be suffering from some form of Stockholm's Syndrome. She'd gotten too used to him and Gramps.

If she weren't a captive, watching weird alien courting rituals might actually have been entertaining - mostly because the woman was entirely unresponsive to him and the big, wicked looking skull he'd brought.

She snorted at the sight and made to leave the large laboratory, her sleeping quarters were at the end of the hall leading out of the main lab.   
There were two exits, one that led directly to her room through a backdoor and the large sliding doors that connected to the main hall and some of the places she wasn't allowed in.  
The heat was making her lethargic, she could use a nap.

She couldn't go for the exit she usually passed through since Hulk was busy leaning on the arched frame, showing off his goods to one of the 'nurses' who kept an eye on Allison when the Snake sisters were too busy doing whatever it was they did in the forbidden rooms. 

Allie fancied them having lavish tea-parties she was never to be invited to, sipping fragrant hot water from teeny tiny cups, eating bite-sized finger-foods by stabbing them with their claws and damn - that made her crave scones and cookies and little cucumber and cheese sandwiches. The food here was just as boring as on the ship.

She avoided the would-be couple and made for the main exit, breezing past the guards posted there. They never bothered her when Snake-lady had her moved.

  
A scaly paw stopped her suddenly and she hissed in pain at the prick of claws on her shoulder. She was pulled back and the black claws embedded further into her skin, ruby-red droplets of blood already welling out.

<<Where do you think you're going, soft-meat?>> the guard nearest to her growled.   
She was turned roughly and her eyes met the flash of baleful yellow under the decorated face-plate. There was something frighteningly familiar about them. The same hue as the guard who had threatened her in the beginning.

She whimpered when he cruelly pressed on her wound again.

She didn't even have time to say anything when there was a sudden loud roar and the hand gripping her painfully was wrenched away. Hulk had tackled the guard and was viciously beating him with his bare hands.

Allison backed away untill she hit a wall, trying to avoid getting caught up in the melee.   
She'd never seen anything so _brutal_.

She had always known that these aliens were violent. Not just from when she'd been caught but Hulk and Gramps had sparred in front of her as a sort of training aid too although it had been slow and calculated compared to this.

She'd never seen them _actually_ fight.

Fluorescent green blood flew from the guard as Hulk slashed him with his claws, snarling like an animal.

She tried looking around for help but all the other aliens were just watching. The 'nurse' actually seemed to be enjoying it.

"St-stop." she whispered as tears welled up in her eyes.  
If Hulk didn't stop, he was going to kill the guard. What would happen to her is he went to alien prison?

The commotion must have drawn Snake-lady back from her secret tea-party and she barked a loud order to stop.

Hulk got one last punch in but jumped off the guard, who was now bleeding profusely, unable to raise himself off the polished marble-like floor.

<<Why do you attack my guard, runt?!>> Snake-lady hissed, her muscles tightly coiled, ready to spring into action. If the big woman killed Hulk, Allison was sure she'd be next.

<<Your guard should know better than to damage _my_ Trophy!>> snarled Hulk.

The guard was straining to get up on his knees, reaching for the spear Hulk had knocked away to prop himself up. He made a high-pitched sound that made her teeth ache.

Snake-lady's head snapped to her and she... scented the air?  
Her eyes darkened in anger as they zeroed in on her wound and Allison was about to appologise when the alien spoke again.  
<<I will not have Ic'jit in my presence. Continue.>>

It was all Hulk needed as he pounced on the wounded guard who tried to defend himself with his spear only for Hulk to skillfully dodge and weave between his hits, rip it out of his hands and stab him through the face with it.

<<Not even worth taking the skull.>> he huffed as Snake-lady made Allie stand.

Her shoulder stung, blood pooling in the dip of her clavicle and running down her front and arm. She tried to press on the would to stem the bleeding but only managed to hurt herself.

Hulk growled at her noises of pain, throwing the spear away and gingerly stepping over the dead body like it was trash he didn't want to touch.  
Allie instinctively backed away from him, half-hiding behind Snake-lady.

<<Calm yourself, hunter. We will see to her wounds.>> she said with a low purr that instantly calmed her and Hulk both.

<<How can I know my property will be safe with you?>> Hulk asked and Allie bristled. She was _not_ property dammit.

Snake-lady growled in aggression and Allison suddenly didn't want to be anywhere near her.  
<<Watch yourself, youngling.>>

<<It was fortunate I was here now. I believe it would be… _prudent_ for me to check her status more often.>>

<<How bold.>> Snake-sister piped in, ushering Allison back in the lab towards the operating bed. <<I believe he deserves another visiting day, don't you, cousin?>> she purred as she applied the healing gel on Allison's shoulder. The relief sent a shudder through her whole body.

<<Very well.>> Snake-lady muttered. <<Now begone, you have lingered here enough.>>

Hulk stood straight and nodded his head, puffing up his chest at Snake-sister and the nurse who were throwing him very appreciative looks.

If she weren't so blissed out on the sedatives from the gel entering her bloodstream, Allison might have been offended at being used as an excuse for flirting yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> kch-s'ke'i = to purify
> 
> Ic'jit = Bad Blood
> 
> \---
> 
> Vay'n'ritja - air dancer/graceful fighter  
> A cousin of the Elder Physician's. Scientist.
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N  
> Fun fact, Stockholm Syndrome is a big lie and the guy who 'researched' it during that awful incident is a pig.
> 
> And I'm not entirely happy with this chaper but I'm done trying to fix it so there it is.


	9. Bloodletting

Life went on at a fairly steady pace after the incident with the guard.

The alien women would continue giving her the mystery shots every day, she'd do her workouts and eat the boring food while trying to keep herself from going stir-crazy.  
She almost missed the time on the ship.   
She _definitely_ missed Spike.

For a few weeks, she actually felt she was getting stronger. She didn't get tired as fast and she could lift her own body-weight with ease.  
She had so much more energy!  
In fact, she'd never felt better, it was like the stuff they were giving her was making her stronger and healthier. Like all her senses were alight - food tasted better, the jungle sang in the distance and the world was awash in color and scent.

Not everything was great though. Without the implant in her arm (which she'd spent quite a bit of money on too), her normal cycle came back with a vengeance.

There was one embarasing day when Hulk had shown up for his flirting opportunities, which were apparently going far better for him now that he'd killed a man in three seconds flat, during the most painful day of her period.

He'd been concerned and kept asking why his 'trophy' was 'wounded' and 'left untreated'.  
Whatever the nurse had said made him scrunch up his ugly crab-face like he'd smelled something nasty and finally got him to vacate her room.

She was pretty sure she saw him leaving with the nurse and she cursed him for bringing her here anew. She hoped the woman would break the bastard in half.

Of course, she didn't get her wish. The ass only got more popular after that.

Another few months passed (by Earth standards if her body was back on track) and things began to be less ideal.

Snake-lady had been giving her more and more shots that made her sleepy and weak. Whatever the alien was trying to achieve wasn't going as fast as she wanted it to and she was trying to make up for lost time by increasing the frequency of the shots.

Often, Allie could hear hissed arguments break out between the aliens. Most of it must have been scientific jargon and since her language lessons had been neglected, she only understood fragments about 'pushing the human too far' and 'not enough time for this season' and of course, Snake-lady's vehement insistence that they continue.

Allison gradually started losing her appetite and couldn't keep much down anyway, she slept badly and often had hot and cold flashes wracking her body.  
Whatever they were giving her wasn't agreeing with her, especially in such a large dosage.

She would ask the big woman to stop whenever she came by, which was often now, but her pleas were ignored. Her weak attempts at getting away were easily stopped, and even if she weren't so weak, she wouldn't have stood a chance against the alien's sheer mass.

Her thighs and arms were riddled with little puncture scars that never got to heal right because the same space kept getting stabbed over and over.  
Even Snake-sister tried to intervene on her behalf once and almost got beaten to death. There were no more complaints from anyone after that.

Allison didn't know when Hulk would get her the hell out of there like he'd said he would but she was convinced she'd die if the shots didn't stop soon.

So, she started planning for an escape. She might very well get killed for it, but anything was better than slowly wasting away, tortured like this. 

The guards had been dismissed completely from this level after the incident so she didn't have to worry about anyone but the nurses and the Snake-sisters. 

After so long living here, she'd come to recognize the day-night cycle on this planet. Hulk was only permitted to check up on her once during the longest and hottest of days, a second time during the longest night and a third visiting day was random although he tended to prefer coming in during Snake-sister's monitoring shifts, which were generally closer to the full day than the night.

She didn't want to risk him catching onto her scheming so she waited for the longer night when the weather was cooler anyway and she wouldn't be cooked alive by the intense heat.   
She'd wait for Hulk to appear and distract one of the more haughty nurses who had yet to fall to his charms.   
He would ignore Allison completely for the bigger challenge of winning over the stubborn female.

Allie had been learning about her prison ever since she'd been brought here; the nurses had a very fixed schedule once she figured out how time worked on this planet.  
Snake-lady had been hovering as of late but Allison was banking on the increasingly lenghtening secret tea-parties to provide her with an opportunity.  
The aliens generally left her alone when she was sleeping and she'd slowly been changing her resting time so it would eventually coincide with the few hours of complete darkness.

She went to bed when dusk was darkening, just before Hulk showed up.  
The nurse would sometimes train in one of the dojos - because no part of this society existed without martial training, apparently - while Allie slept.

She could see his dark green-gray form through the frosted doors as she yawned and stretched on her bed.

He only spared her a cursory glance and predictably went in search of the nurse who had left for the kehrite just as the elevator's platform descended again.

Hopefully all three of them would get lucky tonight.

Allison waited for the sounds of violence to start. The females here enjoyed fighting as much as the males of the species. From what she'd gathered, it was a sort of foreplay to them.

As soon as she was reasonably certain they wouldn't hear her rustling about (or wouldn't _care_ that she was awake), Allison threw back the thin pelt that had been covering her.  
She was already wearing the usual netting and the soft leather sandals one of the nurses had given her. They would help her keep quiet.

The balcony in the lab was bigger, her room only had a small arched window she could peer out of and a sealed balcony she'd left transparent to have some ilumination from the rapidly fading dusk and, soon, the stars.  
She had admired the night sky here every chance she got.  
These aliens had no need for electric lights throughout the city so the light pollution was minimal.  
She suspected they saw in the heat spectrum from the way their technology worked and how they could always find their way in complete and utter darkness.

While stargazing, she had identified several stars that seemed to point in the same direction consistently. She'd have to observe them for the whole solar cycle to know for sure but it would serve her well enough for now… provided she managed to get out of the pyramid.  
Plus, she didn't have that long.

Allison pulled the pelt over her shoulders, it might prove useful if she got out, and secured the small leather pouch of water, with a few fruit tied to it, to her waist.

The fight was well underway by now, the brutal snarls and heavy thumps of fists landing on muscled flesh echoed down the hall as she cautiously made her way towards the main lab.

The doors opened for her automatically and she sighed in relief at the sight of the open balcony.

This step pyramid wasn't too steep or tall, she had a chance of sliding her way down to freedom if she went from ledge to ledge.   
_One_ mistake though… 

Allison took a deep breath. She could do it. She _had_ to do it.

After checking everything was secure one last time, she crawled up the stone balustrade and slowly inched her way towards the tall steps.

\----------

Hul'gkan finally knew what it meant to be _alive_.

He'd thought the thrill of the hunt was the supreme pleasure but he had not experienced mating fights until now.

Letting the little ape live and bringing her in to the Elder Physician had been the best decision he'd ever made.

True, it had taken an impromptu, and fortunate, show of strength when that idiotic guard had wounded his Trophy to really win the females over but the reward had been more than worth the small scuffle and left-over minute scar.

He'd heard one of the females he'd breeded already had his pup on the way. The news had all the other females in the research group even more willing to entertain his attention.

He had yet to reach his ultimate prize, Vay'n'ritja, who had been teasing and provoking him in turn for as long as he'd been in contact with her, was more and more absent recently.  
  
He suspected it had something to do with the growing conflict between the two cousins. Likely a struggle for leadership.   
The Desert clan they hailed from was secretive and closed off from the rest of the planet but provided some of the best learned women around, who were also exceedingly territorial and strong-willed. 

Vay'n'ritja had been just about to accept his challenge before whatever conflict had arisen between the Desert clan women had taken her attention away.

The Elder Physician herself was too far above his station for him to dare even make an offer… then again she _had_ touched him...

He focused on his opponent. His blood was alight, he could scent the arousal on his current match as clear as a torch on a frigid winter night.

She _would_ have him tonight, he could tell by now when the females were more inclined towards taking the fight somewhere more… private.  
Not just by their alluring scent, which was distracting and only by his indominable will and discipline did he remain focused, but the wild way they would fight - they were fiercer, angrier. _Impatient_.

And it cost them. 

He had won most of the challenges so far, both in challenge fights and during the mating dance. They were always surprised by his determination and his unwillingness to let himself be distracted.

The female struck fast at his face, scratching at his tresses as they swung back when he dodged. He savored the sting.  
This one was younger than him by a few spans, not as experienced and _very_ eager.  
She snarled and tackled him to the floor, attempting to use her superior weight and strength to pin him down.

He let her believe she had the upper hand as they grappled and just as she was about to put him in a submission hold, already purring her victory, he struck out and broke her hold then leveled his hips, pushing on powerful legs to throw her off and reverse their positions.

The female growled in anger and arousal, looking at him with heated eyes. Her h'dui'se was thick on the air and his palate, almost overwhelmingly so, but he could not claim victory yet, she hadn't called for the match to end and females often used such underhanded methods to trick skillful males and gain the upper hand at the last moment.

He flipped her on her front and kneeled on her back, pinning both her arms at her sides and taking away any leverage she might have tried to use.  
She struggled for a bit, attempting to throw him off but Hul'gkan held on, using his claws just enough to prick the skin and remind her that she had been defeated.

She finally relented, a little displeased at losing but the underlying purr of pleasure underneath the thrum of her anger revealed it was only for show.

Hul'gkan got off her, letting his hand draw down her back and hips purposefully for longer than strictly necessary.

The female rose too, still panting in exersion, and looked down at him, all haughty superiority and barely constrained lust. He purred back, only a _little_ smug, and waited.   
It would be rude to make demands.   
His interest had been made clear, it would be up to her wether she wanted to take the match further where they would fight again for who dominated during copulation.

<<Perhaps a rematch would be in order…>> she hummed and sidestepped him to leave the kehrite but stopped just shy of the exit.  
<<...tomorrow.>> she purred. 

Hul'gkan stopped, he had been trailing after her, expecting to be led to her rooms as the others had done.   
So this one liked to toy with her males. See if they had the patience to wait her out.

<<Today or tomorrow, the result will be the same.>> he puffed up for her and brushed past, earning a warning growl.   
<<Be it your challenge… or another.>> he said as he wiped the thwei off his shoulder. She'd really dug her claws in while they'd wrestled.

The female growled again, frustrated. She was too proud to admit defeat even now.  
No matter, she would seek him out next time.

<<Be in my rooms by the first sun or I _will_ have your spine.>> she rumbled.   
He left the threat unacknowledged. He could already tell it was going to be a vicious fight.  
First sun would rise soon. He had time to plan his approach - the female was surely reviewing their fight as well, searching for weaknesses to exploit in his fighting style.

Hul'gkan left the irritable female behind and turned his back to her at the appropriate distance in order to still be respectful.

He should check on his little Trophy while he had the chance, he would be too busy to mind her come first sun.  
He'd noticed she had seemed weak recently, but the Elder Physician had assured him it was only a side-effect of the serum they were using on her and there would be no lasting damage.

He had intended to check on her properly for a while now but kept getting… sidetracked… and more time than he had expected had passed. 

Not long and the mating season would soon be over and it would be time for him to collect his prize and start educating her anew.

He'd already come up with a training regimen tailored to her. The biological scans he'd done for the Elder Physician had also helped him figure out the right kind of nutrition for her. 

He would take her to one of the tamer game planets where young pups could be trained on their first hunts - he'd found out oomans needed daily sunlight and proximity to plant matter to stay healthy, she might even appreciate a medium closer to her own home-planet as well.   
The suns here were a little too strong for her flimsy skin. She'd suffered minor burns just by being outside.

There were plenty of information packets on how to provide for human aseigan which had proven very useful in his research for the training plan. He'd always disliked careless owners who didn't bother keeping their pets' needs in mind but expected flawless service in return.   
His hound was a perfect example of a properly trained pet.  
Thei'dteinou's teasing that he was far too invested in the little ooman's wellbeing was ridiculous. He'd only brought _some_ reading material with him on but a _few_ hunts.

  
He made his way back to her room, the walls there weren't thermo-isolated like the rest of the private living spaces so the ooman could be monitored more easily without physically being there and possibly disturbing her rest.

He clicked in confusion, the small lump of heat that had been huddled on the too-large bed was missing. She wasn't using the bathing chamber either.

He entered the room, he only had clearance to be present here, the kehrite and the main laboratory. The private rooms he had visited this season had been by invitation only and the rest of the space was forbidden to him.

Her fear scent spiced the air. A little different than how he remembered but still clear. She had been here very recently.

A strange feeling of apprehension rippled up his spine and all thoughts of the mating dance soon to come fled his thoughts.  
What was she up to?

Hul'gkan chittered the command he had taught her for coming to him, in case she was hiding somewhere.

Nothing happened.

He put his mask on, he usually wore his armor even when walking through the small research village, he'd been getting more challenges from other blooded warriors recently - a testament to his skill and success with the females. He generally kept his mask off but tied to his belt, one never knew when it was needed.

He put it on, waiting for the filters to turn on then cycled through the vision modes, scanning the room and nearby areas.   
There were fast-fading small footprints down the hall, he must have just missed her.

He followed the prints to the main lab, they were leading straight to the open balcony where a larger smudge showed traces of other body parts touching the balustrade…

She wouldn't have…

Surely she couldn't be this foolish?

_She did_.

Hul'gkan swore and carefully poked his head out in the open air, tresses fluttering slightly in the warm wind. If the damn ape was where he thought she'd be, he didn't want to spook her and make her loose her footing.

He watched, anger rising to a steady simmer as his Trophy hung off a steep ledge almost three levels down. She let herself drop and landed with an audible ' _oof_ ' on the next one.

In other circumstances, he might have been impressed.  
Right now he wanted to kick her in her stupid little squishy face.

_No_ , he had to stay calm. If the Elder Physician caught on to this, she might have _both_ their spines by first sun.

He needed to act fast.

Hul'gkan grumbled to himself and left the main laboratory, pretending nothing was amiss as he took the platform down.

He would catch up to her. He just hoped she wouldn't slip and snap her fragile neck by the time he got there.

\----------

Allison huffed and wiped the cooling sweat off her brow. Getting down this damn pyramid was more tiring than she had expected. She already had a stitch in her side, her hands were dusty and scraped and her arms felt like wet noodles. Her legs, the ankles and knees in particular, weren't doing much better.

She wasn't even a third of the way down, if she sprained anything before reaching the ground, all this effort would have been for nothing.

She took a sip from her water-pouch, carefully tying it back up at her waist, then shook her arms and legs out to limber up.

She grunted and huffed her way down another ledge then fell on her ass, probably bruising her tailbone, on the next one.

_Just a little more_. she thought to herself, examining her nails. She'd cut them to the quick yesterday so she wouldn't get distracted by tearing one now.   
Those alien clippers had been huge.

Allie crouched and got a solid hold on the strange stone, the edges weren't sharp enough to cut her hands but they weren't exactly pleasant either. She wondered how old the massive stone slabs were. Probably older than the entirety of human civilization.

She slowly crawled over the edge, making sure she had a good hold before letting herself hang down. She'd rapidly lost muscle-mass this last month and had to be careful not to tire herself out too fast. 

She was just about to ease off, belly flat against the stone, when she caught a flash of something right next to her out of the corner of her eye.

A click inches from her ear had her releasing her hold too soon and she yelped as she instinctively pushed off.

_Shit_! She was going to fall on her back!

A large, rough and warm hand caught her by the forearm mid-fall. Her feet were still almost four feet above the lower ledge, swinging a little.

She turned her eyes up, squinting at… nothing.

It looked like she was suspended in the air, but she could feel the hand holding her. There was a strange distortion where she expected the arm gripping hers to be too.

The air shimmered and sparked and Hulk appeared as he had back in the forest where this all started. He hung off the ledge by one hand, his clawed feet digging into the vertical part of the step.

He'd climbed up after her and she hadn't heard a thing.  
Wasn't he supposed to be taking a trip to bonetown?!   
How quick was a quickie with these things? They looked like they'd have more stamina than this.  
She almost felt sorry for the nurse.

He had that same severe looking pewter mask on as when he'd hunted her and she heard the muffled 'krr' of annoyance through it.

_Fuck_.

She'd been made.

Allison continued to stare up at him, uncertain of what he'd do next.  
The eyes of the mask flashed green just before he pushed off, swinging her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while they were still in the air.

Her shriek was cut off when he landed on the next ledge down, driving his shoulder into her stomach and knocking the air out of her.

He kept jumping, jostling her none too gently untill they were down, then walked to a more hidden break between buildings, bumping her along the whole way. 

He'd made the descent in a scant few seconds, and she'd struggled for most of the short night. It was just so fucking unfair…

Allison was dizzy and regretted that sip of water by the time she was set down. He let her fall on her ass with a mocking chitter.   
If she barfed on his boots, would he kill her?

She coughed feebly a couple of times but managed to keep everything down.   
Hulk crouched in front of her, cocking his head to the side in what she now recognized as curiosity or interest.

She didn't dare utter a word, she had a feeling he wouldn't like drawing any attention to them.

She was still half sprawled on the hard-packed dirt when he motioned for her to sit up, growling impatiently as she took longer than he found acceptable.  
He remained squatting in front of her, keeping a firm hold of her wrist to stop her from backing away too much.

Allison felt awkward with him basically staring at her crotch.   
She was just about to ask what the fuck was wrong with him when his other hand came up and gently ran the back of his foreclaw over the puncture scars on her right upper thigh through the square in the mesh.

She flinched back on instinct but didn't get far. His hold on her wrist had tightened. She couldn't see his face but he seemed… angry. He rumbled deep in his throat, as though he was trying to be soothing but it unnerved her more than anything.

He turned his attention to her left thigh with the same irritated scrutiny, then rose and bent to look at the scars on her arms.

She sighed in relief when he let go of her wrist, trying to rub some feeling back into it, all the while Hulk was analyzing her up and down like he didn't like what he was seeing.

<<Who.>> he grumbled. She'd forgotten how much deeper his voice was. It sent a slither of fear down her spine. He _was_ angry.

She rembered herself and averted her eyes.

"I-I… I'm s-sorry." she eeked out but that only made him huff a snarl behind his mask.

She flinched again at the sound of the tubes from his mask disengaging, mouth going dry at the clearly seething rumble.

<<Who.>> he asked again, maskless now, while pointing at the scars on her arm and then at her whole body.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Didn't he know what he'd given her away for?

She felt her fear turning to anger. How dare he do this to her and not even know what it was about? 

"The _hell_ do you want from me!?" she yelled out, finally meeting his brilliant green gaze head on.  
"You left me here, with _them_." she pointed up at the pyramid they had come from.  
" _This_ -" she gestured at herself "- is _your_ fault." and poked an accusing finger in the hard pectoral muscle.

She didn't back off at his angry clicking, she was so tired of everything. Sore and nauseated, all she wanted was to go home.  
But she couldn't do that so she settled on being absolutely fucking furious with the bastard who'd caused her all this grief.

She instantly regretted her attitude when he took a menacing step forward and her anger was yet again replaced by fear.

Her knees clacked together but she stood her ground. She'd learned that backing up just provoked these things, made them want to pursue.

Hulk rumbled again at her, more subdued this time. 

She couldn't believe she'd actually succeeded in staring him down. His face was as ugly as ever but the curve of that deep brow and the tightness around his eyes made him look almost regretful.  
She'd never thought him capable of anything more than angry frowns and smug superiority, and now he was worrying those sharp tusks and lowering his eyes like a kicked puppy.

She did back away when he raised a hand towards her but he grabbed her anyway and slowly shook her shoulder.

He was so proud and cocksure - all of his kind were, it was a way of life for them. The only submission she'd seen from these aliens was towards clearly stronger or older individuals, and even _that_ was contested and grudgingly given if the superior wasn't high enough on the honor scale to warrant more respect than average.

It was strange seeing him like this.  
She realized this was probably the closest thing to an apology she'd get.

Allison swallowed dryly and nodded. He let her go and stepped back, giving her space.

The first sun was rising behind him, painting the alien sky in hues of green, yellow and purple like a giant bruise.  
She was so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> h'dui'se = scent
> 
> \---  
> A/N
> 
> I was done editing this chapter so I figured I might as well post it a day early. 
> 
> Predator dudes drink a lot of respect women juice (but only for their own kind ha!)
> 
> And Allie finally snapped, Hulk was probably too surprized to react lmao!!


	10. Temporary

Hul'gkan debated what to do next.  
The little ooman was rightfully angry with him as she silently stared at the sky behind him.

Never in his entire life had he neglected any of his tools in such a way.  
He'd always taken care of his armor and weapons like his life depended on them because it _did_.  
He'd cared for his hound for many spans, perfecting its natural instincts, feeding, excercising and cleaning it. In return he had a loyal animal who obeyed all his commands.

But he had failed to keep his Trophy safe. She had already become useful to him by providing him access to females and he had completely ignored her wellbeing for it.  
All his planning for future hunts was meaningless if she perished before he even got her back.

Oomans had a certain degree of intelligence and independence and her stubborn refusal to be treated as a pet, despite being trained like one, had tricked his perception of her. He'd never owned another primitive before either, so the experience was new enough that he'd allowed himself to be lax.  
  
He hadn't expected her to be brought this low so easily, she had always been _such_ a headstrong little thing. He should have known better than to allow others unchecked access to her.  
She was even thinner and weaker than when he'd first hunted her, there had been barely any weight on his shoulder when he'd carried her down.  
And now that she was in front of him - something about her scent was _certainly_ different.

He should have been more careful. He'd had plenty of chances to verify her state, before it had gotten so bad that she'd risk her life escaping the Science building, but had ultimately let himself be distracted by his other goals.

Hul'gkan gave little Fire Eyes another once-over. She was still ignoring him, this time in favor of drinking from her small water pouch.  
She was wearing a shaggy pelt over her shoulders like a cape, and even had some food with her.  
Was she planning on running for the dto? 

He doubted she had the survival skills to make it through the experience.   
Still, he _had_ found her in a similar environment on her home-planet, perhaps he was underestimating her determination to live yet again.

He clicked in amusement at the memory of her jumping off a cliff to get away from him in the waterfall - she _was_ the risk taking kind. This wasn't so different, she was just as brash and reckless as ever.

Mind cleared, he called for her to follow and led the way down smaller, less trafficked streets. She hesitated for only a few moments before trotting after him.

He really did need to teach her how to walk without making so much noise. He knew she was capable of stealth when pressed, she wouldn't have escaped him that first time if she wasn't. He just needed to coax it out.

It was a good thing he'd caught her when he did, if she'd managed to run into the dto on her own, she would have surely been eaten by something already.  
It would have been a _waste_.

\----------

Hulk trilled at her to follow and she almost spat her water at him before remembering his patience had a (very short) limit and she wasn't likely to get any more leniency from him than this.

Plus, getting caught out in the open by other nasty aliens didn't sound like a better alternative. Wherever they were going now, at least it wasn't back at the pyramid.

She kept silent even as they entered the jungle. He was a few feet in front of her at all times but his pace was sedate and he would pause every now and then to look back at her.

Allison tamped down at the excitement bubbling up in her, wondering if she was the first human to hike in the alien jungle.   
_Probably not_. she swallowed back as she remembered the furtive people scurrying along the road edges. Although she might be the first one to not get killed for it.

Hulk's low growl interrupted her musings. She'd lagged a little too much behind.

She was still angry at the big bastard but didn't know enough about this place to let herself get distracted or strike out on her own.

Still, it was… wonderful.   
The gargantuan trees towered above everything, lending the jungle a strange mysterious light even with the first sun fully risen by now.  
There were other weird plants growing wherever the light penetrated, with exotic vines, leaves and flowers everywhere.   
She heard more and more alien whoops and whistles coming from the canopy as they left the city further behind.

The fresh air and freedom was already doing her good, she'd been cooped up in that lab for far too long.

Something big honk-growled deeper into the mess of trees and she flinched. There were probably all sorts of dangerous predators out here, a planet that housed people like Hulk couldn't not have something nasty for them to hunt when they got bored.   
Was it really safe for her to go traipsing around?

She'd planned on staying on the outskirts of the city to avoid the wildlife but hadn't really thought her escape out.   
Now that she was here, she realized how woefully inadequate she was. 

"Why… why did you bring me here?" she whispered hoarsely.

Hulk only trilled at her to follow again, ignoring her question.

<<Here. Why. Me?>> she tried once more in his rough language.

<<Why am I here.>> he rumbled, making her smile.  
She couldn't believe she'd actually missed his lessons. He never ignored her attempts to speak in his tongue. Even though she knew it was for his own unknown gain that he taught her, she still appreciated the conversation break.   
She'd been so lonely, especially when all the other aliens were around, they never payed her much mind unless it was for tests or shots.  
Compared to the others of his kind, Hulk was downright chatty.

<<Learn.>> he continued, gesturing at their surroundings. <<Dto dangerous for ooman.>>

_Of course._  
He was showing her how much of an idiot she'd been for running.

"Yeah, I figured I was doomed when we got here… I uh… didn't plan this far ahead." she added sheepishly.

Hulk chuffed in that ' _why am I not surprised, you dumb human_ ' way of his and shook his head.   
She noticed he'd added a few more small decorative bones to his hair-tubes that clinked together softly.   
The savage chique look was all the rage with these guys.

He gestured for her to come closer with a wave of his hand and she tentatively obliged.   
<<Listen.>> he said when she was within an armspan of him.   
These hunter aliens had a wide personal bubble that was generally respected everywhere. If two of them ever got closer than this it was either because shit was about to go down or they were really, _really_ friendly with each other - which she wished she hadn't witnessed as often as she had.

Allison looked up at his crabby face in confusion as he closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.  
She decide that being caught staring would be bad so she imitated his stance, trying to listen as he had instructed.

The sounds of the jungle enveloped her, louder now than before. She didn't understand _what_ exactly she was listening _for_ but tried to identify each sound in turn.  
There were the same whooping calls echoing in the treetops as when they had entered the jungle.   
High chirps and deep, wheezy, bullfrog-like croaks.  
Something like an insect buzzing nearby.

There were smaller, more intimate sounds, like her breathing and hearbeat thumping up into her ears.   
Hulk made no sounds at all and she tried to quiet herself too. 

A familiar calm settled over her, like when she would sometimes doze in the afternoon sun back home, in her forest.

<<What do you hear?>> Hulk asked, his voice low and hushed like he knew not to startle her out of her trance. It still sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"I don't… know what they're called." she answered.

He made his usual angry 'krr' sound that was more welcome for its familiarity than frightening.  
<<Stay quiet.>> he rumbled in displeasure from somewhere to her right.  
<<Find water.>> his voice sounded distant.  
<<Survive.>> it echoed from above.

Allison snapped her eyes open and looked around, she was alone.  
She almost yelled after him in fright but held herself back. He'd told her to be quiet.

Her breathing sounded panicked to her own ears. She couldn't believe it. He'd left her here! _Alone_!

Was this some strange punishment for trying to escape? His way of showing her how useless she was?  
She already knew that, there was no need to leave her stranded in an alien jungle!

She tried following her own footsteps back the way they came but lost track of them after barely a few minutes.

She was close to hyperventilating. Sweat pouring off her in the wet heat and so scared she winced at every little rustle.

He couldn't have just left her out here. It didn't make sense.   
He was probably invisible somewhere nearby, laughing at her stupidity.  
She tried looking for him, searching for any odd distortion in the air but the light here was shifting with the slight wind and everything was too irregularly shaped for her to notice any breaks in patterns.

Allie hugged herself and did her trusty old breathing exercises, consciously making herself relax and calm down.

He'd told her to be quiet and find water.   
This was probably some fucked up test or punishment for her disobedience. He wouldn't let anything eat her.  
_Probably_.

She resolved that the fastest way to get out of here was to do as he'd commanded.

\----------

Allison had tried searching for water for what felt like the better part of an hour. 

She'd been rationing the little pouch of water she'd brought with her but in this heat it was almost down to a third of what she'd started out with.   
She was tempted to eat the fruit but didn't know how much longer Hulk would leave her out here and she wasn't hungry so she opted to save it for later.

She knew nothing of this place, she had no map, no compass, nothing. She couldn't even scale a tree to get a good look from a higher vantage point.  
How the hell was she supposed to navigate?

She'd been careful to leave clear tracks back to where Hulk had left her as she branched out in search of a water source.

Allison went back to where she'd been abandoned again and sat on a nearby rock.   
She had to _think_.  
He'd left her here for a reason. It was probably a shitty one but he'd wanted her to learn something.

She got up and stood in the same place as before.   
He had wanted her to listen so she she would listen. Maybe she'd missed something the first time.

It took her a while to bring her anxiety down enough that her own pumping heart wouldn't distract her but she eventually reached that same state of hazy calm as before.

She took to singling out each different type of sound and letting them fade to the background of her awareness one by one untill -   
_There!_

A quiet trickle.

She gasped in relief!   
She'd heard the subtle sussurring of running water, now she just had to head in that general direction and find it.

Allie took another sip from her water pouch and set off, trying not to make too much noise lest she draw the attention of the bigger animals living here.  
She was certain the creek she'd heard attracted other beings to it and she wasn't entirely sure Hulk would step in if she pissed off whatever big game this jungle had.

\----------

Finally, the ooman was using her underdeveloped brain.  
Hul'gkan had the patience of a true hunter and had waited out prey for weeks at times, but even _he_ was getting tired of her blundering.  
And they didn't have the time to waste, he was certain her absence had already been noted by now. He would have to take her back soon.

He leapt from tree to tree, following his Trophy down to the creek.  
He'd picked a place just far enough away that her duller senses could still pick up the sounds. It was a skill that would become useful later.   
He planned on giving her a head start to explore the area she would be dropped in and ready herself for being hunted.

Hul'gkan rumbled to himself in impatience. He still had so much to teach her and so little time. Her natural lifespan only allowed for so much before she would become too old for him to use.  
He hadn't thought of what he'd do with her once she became too feeble to perform as a training tool or got close to her expiration date. Perhaps she would serve as an aseigan, tending to his dwelling while he went off on hunts?  
How unfortunate oomans lived so little.

No matter, it was too early to plan for that now, she still had to survive her first real hunt after he was done teaching her the basics of survival. This was barely the beginning.

He kept his senses attuned to the dto, she had instinctively started hiding her movements now that she was alone, as he'd expected, but she'd made enough noise up to this point to draw attention.

Hul'gkan moved when the ooman did, pausing and keeping perfectly still whenever she stopped and her gaze would brush over his position.  
She knew he was nearby and at one point he'd felt almost certain she'd spotted him as her eyes narrowed, meeting his own but she wasn't looking at him - the trees were thinning behind him and a small flock of k'yipsas was visible.

They were almost there.

She followed the flapping of wings and let out a strange sound when she was within visual range of the flowing water.  
His translator interpreted that as sounds of joy. _Laughter_.

He'd never heard her laugh before. 

The sound was unexpectedly pleasant.

Little Fire Eyes checked her surroundings extensively before approaching the bank. Good, she was still cautious.

Watering holes were an ideal place to stake out prey. Most big game needed to drink at one point or another. Sometimes a hunt would consist mainly of watching a freshwater river or lake for the prey to show up, then follow in its tracks.  
It wasn't recommended to make the kill here though. The scent of blood would deter other animals from approaching.

The creek was clean enough to drink from and he clicked in amusement at the ooman as she cautiously approached the water and kneeled on the bank of smoothly rounded pebbles to first poke a twig in the flow, then a finger, then cupped her palms and brought the captured water up to her face for a long sniff and a quick taste.

He doubted she had the finely attuned senses to really tell the difference between pure and contaminated water but he wouldn't fault her for being careful.

In stead of drinking, she splashed the cool liquid on her face then continued drenching herself untill there was not a patch of skin or hair that was dry.  
Her core temperature, which had been heightened even in the shade of the dto, lowered to more normal ranges for her kind.

Hul'gkan jumped to another tree, clicking to himself in anticipation, he'd make time for another short lesson before they had to return.

\----------

A fist-sized beetle-thing was flexing its iridescent carapace on a nearby frond, catching her eye.   
She hadn't seen any animals that weren't dead on this planet yet - fresh meat was often brought to where she was kept, but the carcasses were cleaned and cut by the time she saw them, even insects avoided the hunters and their cities.

She'd spotted things flying over the jungle from her room but they had been too far away to really make out and the ones flocking close to the stream had dispersed when they'd sensed her.

The short walk in the jungle hadn't revealed any other critters either. They were probably smart enough (or scared enough) to hide from Hulk's ilk.

The beetle-thing opened its carapace and took flight, crossing the river while bobbing up and down like a bumblebee.  
She watched it trundle on, wondering what other strange creatures this planet housed.  
Suddenly, some sort of elongated animal that looked like a cross between an iguana and a really ugly fish suddenly thrust its body out of the water and caught the beetle in its pointy mouth.

Holy hell, how deep was the water?! She hadn't even seen a _shadow_ move in it.

A low series of clicks alerted her that she was no longer alone.   
Hulk, that ugly bastard, must have returned. Probably enjoyed seeing her get spooked by a damn lizard.

She pretended she hadn't heard and continued splashing water over herself, moving deliberately slow and keeping one hand always in the water, waiting for him to make his move and closing her eyes to listen.

She didn't have to wait long for the slight crunch behind her.  
Allison rolled to the side and splashed back with her arms, hitting the creep right in the midsection.  
The strange effect of the cloaking technology on his armor sparked as his massive body recoiled.

His big body shuddered like a giant, angry, wet cat. He hadn't expected her to cacth him and she'd always suspected his kind didn't like the cold much.

Allison stepped into the flow, calf deep, and kicked more water with her legs, feeling a petty sort of satisfaction at the small revenge.

The cloak sparked some more as he dodged with varying degrees of success and eventually sputtered out, revealing Hulk with most of his lower half absolutely drenched.

"Serves you right for abandoning me in the middle of the fucking jungle!" she crooned with a last splash that he deftly side-stepped.

"Uh-oh…"  
He did not look particularly happy, in fact, he was doing that low growly thing at her that told her she'd fucked up something beyond his tolerance level.  
Usually, this would be followed by a smack upside the head or maybe getting her legs swept up from under her to fall on her ass, but she was far enough away that neither option was immediately available to him.

"Now h-hold on a minute..." of course she just had to go and ruin the scary alien's toys.

Allison instinctively leaned forward, lowering her center of gravity and holding an arm out in front of her.

She didn't get to finish her plea, Hulk jumped her, scattering pebbles behind him with the force of his leap.  
Allie scampered to the side but he caught her by the arm and she kicked out reflexively, catching Hulk in the knee and sending them both tumbling into the shallow stream.

The cold must have stunned him enough that his grip on her arm loosened and she slipped free, splashing water everywhere in her mad dash away from the pissed off alien.  
Unforunately, Hulk recovered too soon and grabbed her by the ankle, making her lose her footing and fall face-first into the water again.

She hoped it was good enough to drink because she'd just swallowed half of it.

Her head was still underwater and she didn't hear his clicking laugh in time, striking out with her other foot and hitting him square in a finger-like tusk.

That made him yowl in pain and jerk up, holding the squiggly human upside-down by the ankle.

Allison gasped and shrieked as he spun her and threw her towards the other bank. 

She sailed in the air, ass over teakettle only to have her fall suddenly stopped by something that squaked under her.

<<C'jit.>> she heard him swear as she groaned.

Allison knelt on the ground, sliding off something warm and a little… fluffy?  
Her head had stopped spinning enough that she could make out a lump of something brown under her.

The thing squaked again and groggily got to its feet.  
It looked like some sort of fluffy dinosaur-insect, with big eyes, an elongated neck and four red mandibles like a praying mantis, about as big as a large dog with an extra set of legs, sporting a pattern of cream and brown fluff that reminded her of a sparrow.

"Awww, you're kinda cute." she cooed at the thing, her hand automatically going out to touch it.

The sparrow-mantis reared back and let out the loudest, most high-pitched screech she had ever heard, revealing an unexpectedly large maw lined by three rows of very sharp teeth.

Fortunately, that was the exact moment Hulk kicked it away, cutting off the ear-splitting scream with a huff and snatching Allison up like a sack of grain.

She struggled on his shoulder for only a moment before another, louder and deeper screech answered the first one and Allie froze over Hulk's shoulder like a frightened mouse.

The trees were swaying, raining exotic leaves over the sparrow-mantis as one and then two thick legs covered by overlapping plates of chitin came into view.

She followed the strange insectoid body up but didn't get a chance to see anything past its segmented torso because Hulk had jumped up into a tree and drove all the air out of her with his massive shoulder when he landed on a branch.

She bit her tongue and tasted blood, gritting her teeth against the relentless jostling and holding onto his armor for dear life as he ran like his ass was on fire.

Whatever the hell that thing was had Hulk sprinting out of the forest like a madman. _Clearly_ , it was bad news.

\----------

Hul'gkan carried his Trophy to safety, not wasting any time in taking her back to the research laboratory by letting her walk.

He hadn't liked running from a challenge but the creature was too dangerous to take on by himself, unprepared and without all of his weapons and armor, let alone while worrying about a soft little ooman underfoot.

She grunted and whined with each bump, cussing him out in her own tongue with increasingly complicated idioms and improbable series of actions.

He did not care much for the verbal assault, never had. But it did nothing to cause harm and he already knew how foul of a mouth she could have when in pain or even mildly inconvenienced.  
He'd heard worse when she had stubbed her smallest toe more than a season ago on Iktahar'g's vessel during transit.

Hul'gkan had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

Like the quietly fuming Elder Physician waiting for him.

He deposited the ooman on solid ground next to him and performed the formal salute.  
He had been thinking on how to approach the situation while following little Fire Eyes through the dto but the impromptu wrestle in the creek and the strategic retreat from the unexpected prey had derailed his planning.

<<What is the meaning of this?!>> Je-st'sha're demanded, her claws already curled at her sides.

Hul'gkan put a hand on the little ape's shoulder to quiet her down. It wouldn't do for her to attempt another escape now.

<<Greetings, Honored Elder. I am uncertain what you mean. I was just bringing my Trophy back from a lesson.>> he replied, carefully neutral.

<<You -!>> the Elder's eyes flashed hot with anger. He could see her reign it back in with considerable effort.  
<< _Who_ authorized you to remove it from the facility? The ooman is vital to our research.>>

Hul'gkan rumbled in thought, pressing down with more reassurance on the ooman's shoulder. She was understandably spooked by the Elder's anger.

<<If she is so _vital_ , then why is she in such a poor state of health? I remember the agreement was that she would be returned to me intact.>> he gestured at the ooman with his other hand.

<<You fret over _nothing_. Is your catch so fragile that it cannot be sustained? Perhaps we should reconsider and take another one. I hear more hunters have returned with prizes recently.>> the Elder taunted.   
Her cousin, who had joined the group mid-argument limped forward as if to stop the Elder's harsh words but it was too late. She had already thrown out the challenge.

<<Perhaps you _should_. She is obviously wasted here.>> Hul'gkan growled at the insult, his anger making him dare call out her bluff. The Elder was overstepping _her_ bounds now.  
He knew it was a mistake to make an enemy of a female Elder, it was a danger not only for his reputation but his very life - still, he could not stand to be openly insulted like this.  
Plus, he'd heard the rumors; two of the oomans brought recently were already deceased upon arrival, one had died in the cryogenic transport she'd been put in that hadn't been properly calibrated for her biometrics, the other had lost her life in transit, likely due to the hunter's short temper, while a third had taken her own life by leaping off the the spaceport edge not two cycles ago - her owner had mistakenly assumed her obedient behavior on the way meant no restraint was necessary. There were likely more that had lived but he doubted any had been as worthy as his own.

<<And lose all our hard work? Respectfully, that _cannot_ be allowed, Elder!>> Vay'n'ritja intervened.  
She looked more battered than before. She had very obviously lost whatever power struggles had occured here.

Elder Je-st'sha're loudly growled her displeasure.  
<<The subject is late for its treatment.>> she stated, completely ignoring her own threat.

<<Next time you wish to take it out on a walk ->> she poked him in the chest with a sharp claw, breaking the hide to draw thwei. <<\- you clear it with _me_ first.>>  
The Elder turned on her heel abruptly, almost slapping him with her tresses as she walked away.

Hul'gkan crossed his arms over his chest, this had gone considerably less violent than he had expected.  
His Trophy must have truly been important to make the Elder swallow her pride.

<<Hulj-bpe!>> Vay'n'ritja hissed and grabbed his bicep forcefully, dislodging him from the ooman.  
<<Have you gone mad?! Why would you defy her so?>> she ranted on, attempting to give him a firm shake. <<And why are you both wet?>>

Hul'gkan growled a warning and jerked his arm back. She released him with another angry hiss.

<<What have you been doing to _my_ Trophy?>> he asked lowly in stead, meeting her fury heated gaze with his own.

The female grumbled something profane, tusks weaving back and forth in agitation.

<<Not here. Not now.>> she muttered as she leaned over him.  
<<I must take her back.>>

<< _When_?>> he rumbled, stepping in front of his prize before Vay'n'ritja could guide her away.

<<I will call on you. I _swear_ it. But you must go now.>>

Hul'gkan let slip another angry growl but allowed the female to take hold of his ooman.

"No!" the little ape yelled. "Don't leave me here again!" she turned big, wet pleading eyes up at him while struggling to get free of the female's grasp.

The soothing purr came out before he even realized it and he marveled at how quickly it calmed her.  
He hadn't expected this to work on members of other species.

<<They will not harm you.>> he reassured. 

"… that's what you said last time…" she whispered dejectedly.

<<It won't be much longer now, the season is almost over.>> he continued to placate in the gentlest tone he could muster.  
He'd only ever spoken this way when he had been Unblooded and assisted with Elder Iktaha'rg's youngest pups in training. 

He shouldn't have even bothered with the platitudes and just ordered her to obey, but something stopped him. Some part of him… pitied her.

He watched Vay'n'ritja, who was making soothing noises herself, drag his reluctant little ooman away.

Hul'gkan turned his head, he'd learned to read the ape's expression too well and did not like the discomfort her desperate, accussing look evoked in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> dto = jungle/forest/large gathering of trees
> 
> aseigan = servant (can be of any primitive species)
> 
> k'yipsas = small flying creatures that move in swarms and live near swamps or bodies of water. Native to the Yaut'ja Homeworld.
> 
> c'jit = shit (expletive)
> 
> hulj-bpe = crazy/addlebrained
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> As far as captors go, Allison 'lucked out' with Hulk.  
> I think the chances of surviving an encounter or capture by these things are abysmally low, all things considered.
> 
> \---
> 
> Don't know if I'll make thursday the new update day but I figured since it was done early this time too...


	11. Fluorescent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for some serious manhandling and more this chapter.
> 
> Not the fun kind.

The next few weeks were dominated by an uneasy sort of calm.

Snake-lady and her cronies were no longer needling her three times a day and had reverted to the every-day shot.  
The improvement had been almost immediate. Her energy levels rose up back to normal, she could eat without throwing everything back up and sleeping was no longer a chore.

Allison would have been almost happy, or at least resigned to her fate, except there was something wrong with the aliens.

Snake-lady had dismissed all of the 'nurses' and kept having loud arguments with her sister.

Two days after the little spat with Hulk, she saw another girl being brought in through the semi-transparent frosted glass doors of the big lab. The other woman was limping and cowered behind the hunter tugging her along. Allison had raised her hand in greeting, hoping to see or maybe get to speak to another human being again, but the girl was taken into one of the restricted rooms.  
Allison had yet to see her come out.

Soon after, it seemed like the very building had become different. It felt… wrong. Haunted.  
There were moments, especially during the times she rested and the laboratory was quiet, that she could hear strange wails echoing through the small, circular vents.

The weather was changing too. The nights became a little longer every cycle and there was a constant low fog in the air.   
Torrential rains were starting to become more and more common and the water that came down in large, dense drops was hot and looked close to boiling. The thick fog that resulted made everything street-level impossible to discern.

Witnessing changing weather patterns on an alien world would have been enchanting if she weren't fearing for her life every second.

Snake-lady was becoming more and more irate with each passing day and while Allison could sense it wasn't aimed directly at her, specifically, it was always in relation to a test that didn't yield the kind of result she'd wanted.

Hulk showed up even more often than before but wasn't allowed to bring her outside or even spend time alone with her anymore.  
She was still angry at him and refused to engage in conversation whenever he attempted it wether he was firm, cajoling or doing that tiger/alligator purr thing to convince her to speak to him.  
He would ask questions about her health and wellbeing and get huffy when she'd cross her arms and stare through him moodily.

At least he never got to 'discipline' her with a smack upside the back of her head anymore. Snake-lady didn't like him touching her after the last time Allison had reacted badly to it. Said something about 'stressing her test subject unnecessarily' and hissed at him whenever he got too close.

She knew it was irrational, Hulk had no loyalty to her as a person, only an interest in keeping his investment alive for whatever else he'd have her do once the big women were done with her (which she found only _slightly_ reassuring, she wasn't convinced he could ensure her survival anymore), but she still felt betrayed.   
Him covering Allie's failed escape, which she could only conclude was done to avoid 'dishonor' and possibly punishement to them both had rendered the act self-serving, any benefit to her was incidental.

And, ultimately, some part of her had _trusted_ him.  
Had trusted his words enough that she'd actually been hurt when he'd handed her over to the women again.

She was angry at herself too, for being stupid enough to actually believe in him.   
Hulk had only ever minded his own plans, she was simply a cog in his machinations. 

He didn't even see her as a person for fuck's sake!  
Probably didn't view it as a betrayal either.

She was just a human to him, which she'd found meant little to nothing in this society, valuable as a resource but not deserving of respect and dignity like his kind.  
It was a trait he shared with all the other hunter aliens.

Allison's self-imposed vow of silence was wearing on her psyche. She didn't even talk to herself anymore, too tired of the sound of her own voice.  
As a result, her imagination became wild and uncontrolable  
She would dream of random moments of her life before and during capture.   
Her mother was a prominent feature in most of them and brought back new waves of grief over her passing.  
Her highschool sweetheart sometimes showed up, crying like she had on the day of their breakup and her University boyfriend told her he still missed her.  
Gemma was always just out of reach, looking sad and worried while holding Pumpkin at her window sill, completely ignorant of Allison's presence as she begged for her friend's help.  
The unknown woman would sometimes appear in nightmares, a pale form with no face chasing her down, demanding to know _why her_ and not Allison.  
The worst still were the ones with the black creature hunting her again, only this time Hulk didn't happen to come to her rescue and she would be torn apart, piece by piece, just like poor Jeremiah and his sons.

The ones where she drowned in the river were the most peaceful. Sometimes she thought that might have been the better option.

She would often wake up with tears in her eyes, streaming into her messy hair.

Her behaviour hadn't gone unnoticed by her captors.  
While Snake-lady was content that Allie still ate and slept regularly and didn't complain about being injected anymore, it was Snake-sister who would sometimes bring her small puzzles to solve or try to engage her in conversation.

Allison didn't understand the change in attitute and at first had been suspicious of the odd offerings.  
She was given pretty metallic, stone or ( _ugh_ ) bone contraptions that reminded her of Rubik's cubes by the way they were solved except they were built like intricate and ornate jewelry boxes with secret compartments she had to unlock. They were also faintly warm to the touch.

Perhaps they were children's toys.   
The image of these things ever being young and vulnerable was difficult to conjure.

She'd ignored the first puzzle that had been left on the high table in her room, thinking it was another ploy from Hulk to get her to talk.   
It was only after Snake-sister took her blood the next evening and pretended to fail at unravelling the chunky box while the tests ran that Allison figured out it was from her.

Snake-sister had rattled in frustration and put the strange gray and blue puzzle down after a while. Allison didn't buy the act for one second.  
Still, Snake-sister had succeeded in drawing out her curiosity. Staring out at the turbulent skies, torrential rains and buffeting winds became stale after a while.

Solving the thing had taken her the better part of the day but Allison was nothing if not perseverant… and _incredibly_ bored.

She was fiddling with a finely carved, yellow and white bone puzzle-box when Hulk came in for one of his visits. She found it was a little too soon after the last one but figured he knew better than her.   
Not like anyone around here ever bothered informing her of anything.

He'd chilled out with the constant courtship recently and had stopped bringing in trophy skulls to woo the women.   
The season must have been coming to an end.  
She was looking forward to leaving this place but wasn't particularly eager to resume living under Hulk's _unique_ brand of bullshit.

She fought the urge to turn her back, the satisfaction of making her dislike of him absolutely clear would be only temporary.

Hulk grumbled at her at first but then sat on one of the big chairs and watched her play with the toy.  
His beady-eyed stare was unnerving and made her accidentally trigger a wrong slot, prompting the puzzle freeze up and undo most of her hard work.

Allison groaned in frustration and dropped the toy in her lap. Hulk chuffed and laughed at her in derision.

She almost wanted to chuck the thing at his head. _Almost_.  
Giving him any sort of attention or acknowledgement would mean she'd lose their little game of wills and she wasn't prepared to give up yet. She knew he'd take her away soon and ignoring him would become next to impossible.  
The bastard was probably already planning on how to get back at her.

Hulk got up in one fluid motion and faced the entryway, Snake-sister was coming over.

_Strange_. Allison thought.  
It was unusual for the boss alien to be absent whenever Hulk was around. Especially after the argument when he'd dumped her back here. She supposed the older alien was too busy now and since all the other nurses had been discharged, there was no one else but her younger relative left... even though the two had had multiple (violent) arguments over time.

<<You are too early.>> Snake-sister hisses at the smaller male, shoulders set and arms ready at her sides like she wants to throttle him.

<<I have waited for answers long enough.>> Hulk rattles back.

Snake-sister eyes him from top to bottom and up again while crossing her arms and leaning back on a leg.  
<<Then let me _show_ you.>> she purrs and Allie rolls her eyes. Guess the season wasn't over quite yet.

Hulk looks doubtful for only a few moments before responding to her advances and following her out.

Allison groans in disgust and picks up the puzzle again. Might as well start over.

\----------

Time passes in relative peace before her game is disrupted again by Snake-lady making an appearance.

The big alien is quiet and impatient as she motions Allison to go to the main laboratory room.  
There is a long pause as Allie obediently hops on the examination bed and holds her arm out while Snake-lady studies the human with a creepy sort of intensity that has the hair on her arms stand on end and skin pebble in goose-bumps.

She lets the hand flop down on her thighs when the big woman removes a stubby container with something rattling inside, circles her and tells her to be still. There's a prick of pain at the back of her neck and Allison feels something small slip under her skin.  
The whole thing is over in a second and she barely has time to flinch before the familiar scent of the healing gel stings her nose.

<<Lay down.>> Snake-lady orders then retrieves some instruments from one of the metal cabinets.

Allison does as she is told, despite the unease pooling in her sternum. Laying down like this often meant she was to undergo more _invasive_ tests or full-body scans. She'd already had an extensive check-up like it not too long ago.

She turns her head from the tray of instruments to watch the storm as Snake-lady meticulously sanitizes herself with some strange alien spray that smells like a stronger, astringent version of the healing gel.

She resists the urge to scratch at the already fading stab of pain at the base of her neck. Sometimes she'd have to stay with stuff shoved into the veins of her wrists or the iniside of her elbows for days. Removing or touching whatever Snake-lady put in her would only make the alien woman angry.  
This must be something like it.

Her stomach tenses and she almost jumps off the medical bed when the cold spray is liberally applied to her belly.

" _What are you doing_?" her voice comes out so hoarse and broken from unuse, she almost doesn't recognize it.

<<Be still.>> the woman snaps, grabbing her flailing arm and forcefully aligning it to her body.

Allison settles down, afraid of angering the volatile alien further. Her mood had become more and more sullen and irate recently.

Snake-lady applies another cool gel to her abdomen and activates the overhead scanner, tinting the room green with its intense light.

Something was wrong. She could _feel_ it. It had never happened like this before.

Allisone tries to squirm away but the alien grabs her with those mighty paws, puncturing her skin with her sharp claws and settling her back down on the bed.  
Fear takes over and Allison begins struggling in earnest, managing to send the tray of instruments flying with a stray kick.

The alien growls and punches her in the side of her face before she can scream.  
Allison sees stars, her vision swimming in and out of focus as the adrenaline already surging in her veins fights off what would have normally been a knockout.

She breathes through her nose and swallows back blood as she is manhandled, limp and weak, into position.  
She's still blinking away the dizziness and registers that the pitiful mewls and whimpers were coming from _her_.

There's a low mechanical whirr and dark bands wrap around her wrists, upper arms, legs and torso, pinning her to the bed.  
She tries to free herself, only managing to wiggle her body and bump the back of her head on the hard bed.

Snake-lady rattles angrily and turns on the overhead scanner. The device buzzes softly while Allison keeps struggling, fighting off the wave of exhaustion that beckons at her to just close her eyes, let it happen and hope a punch to the face was the worst of it.

The sight of the long and unusually thick needle gun brings back some of her fight. She's panting heavily from pain and fear. Whatever the stuff smeared on her belly was had numbed the area all the way to the muscles too. She can feel the eerily relaxing heat of it spread over her abdomen, making it harder to breathe and almost impossible to struggle.

Allison inhales through her nose, it sounds more like a snort because of all the mucus from crying and laying on her back.   
As soon as she gets a good lungful of air, she tenses whatever muscles were still responding and tries to scream, but is stopped by the heavy, rough paw clamping over her mouth and jaw painfully.

Then the big needle goes in.  
She couldn't even howl in distress. There was a strange sensation deep inside of her, and the pain on the surface was dulled but still present although she couldn't even twitch at it.

The vial at the end fills with crimson then the alien woman removes the offending object, taking her large paw off Allie's mouth to change the vial and needle for fresh ones.  
Allison tries to scream again but all that comes out after half-suffocating is a miserable whine and a weak sob.

Snake-lady didn't even bother muffling her again when she repeated the process on the other side. She then pockets the vials and turns off the restraints.

Allison immediately curls on her side in the fetal position, breathing heavily through her mouth, the entire right side of her face burns and her eye was already swollen shut.  
Her abdomen is numb yet she could sense a deep ache inside of her.  
"What… did you… do?"

The big woman pauses mid-step, thick gray tendrils shifting over her shoulders as she peers downward. 

<<My duty.>> she rattles and turns away, leaving Allison alone on the medical bed.   
Two thin trails of blood had left lines like red tear-tracks going sideways on her belly.

\----------

Their heavy breaths are hot in the air together with the musky scent of their coupling and the smell of freshly spilled thwei.   
He smears the blood dribbling over his heaving chest, the wounds were already starting to close, they would make fetching scars to go with the rest on his arms and sides.

Hul'gkan sighs in satisfaction as he watches Vay'n'ritja rise from the large bed and open the sealed balcony to let some fresh air in.  
  
He was a about to offer help in treating her own wounds before she kicks him out when the sound of something smashing and a very faint, _very_ _ooman_ wail threads in through the damp air.

Vay'n'ritja turns to meet his eyes but Hul'gkan was already moving, rushing out the door in just his loincloth and sandals, grabbing his ki'cti-pa on the way.   
They had both disarmed and disrobed before the mating dance, her awu-asa placed on a stand, his neatly stacked next to the entryway. He hadn't even had a chance to strap his gauntlet computer back on, too concerned with the unusual sound to waste time with it.

Vay'n'ritja silently follows him out, her longer strides bringing her close behind him as he turns the corner and peers into the main laboratory room.

He runs at the sight of little Fire Eyes crumpled on the floor, she had knocked over some delicate equipment that lay shattered beside her and there was a tray and surgical apparatus scattered all over the floor around her as though there had been a scuffle.  
He takes to one knee beside her as she struggles to pick herself up, there was something wrong with how she was moving and her face… it was hot with blood and swelling grotesquely.

Hul'gkan rattles in aggression at Vay'n'ritja who had strayed too close. The woman does not challenge him as would have been her right, but still hovers nearby, clicking in concern and inquiry.

He grabs a hold of the ooman's arm and pulls her up but she can hardly keep her balance alone and slumps sideways, crashing into him.

<<Who would _dare..._ >> he growls, anger simmering just beneath his skin.

The female chitters a denial and shakes her head, hurrying out of the main room and darting down the wide hall to open one of the doors forbidden to him.

He follows, dragging his Trophy along, who was mewling like a struck pup and clutching her abdomen.  
Hul'gkan steps in right after Vay'n'ritja, forcefully holding the airlock from sliding shut over him and the ooman with his arm and shoulder.

<<Cousin!>> the female yells, angrily stomping up to the Elder Physician who was tinkering with some medical machinery.  
<<What were you thinking?! This isn't what I agreed to!>> she hisses.

Je-st'sha're ignores the smaller female and, with practiced efficiency, removes one of the vials from the machine then extractes the fluid and injects herself in the belly with it.

Hul'gkan lets his angry growl reverberate into the room.  
Little Fire Eyes had recovered enough to retreat behind another large medical machine. Good, if the Elder attacks him, or worse - _he_ challenges her, it would be better for the little thing to be out of the way.

He squares his shoulders but does not engage his weapon. It dawns on him that everything that had happened today was simply a distraction. 

Vay'n'ritja had fought well but he'd suppressed her far sooner than he had expected... she'd only slammed him against the wall a couple of times, barely even made him dizzy. He'd gotten concussions and worse from other mating dances.  
She was an active Hunter with more experience than him, his victory had been a lie.

He did _not_ like the feeling of being used.

But that isn't the biggest slight he's suffered today.

<<You _broke_ our agreement, Elder>> he grits out.

The Elder continues ignoring them and opens an interface at one of the technical consoles before a reinforced, heatproof enclosure.

<<Have you forgotten your honor? And sullied mine with it?!>> Vay'n'ritja demands loudly.

Non-plussed, Je-st'sha're presses a button and the airlock behind him clicks to announce a bio-hazard lock.  
She waves over another section of the controls and a muffled yet instantly recognizable screech breaks the argument, making the little spines on his shoulders and back bristle in anticipation of a fight.

The Elder takes advantage of her cousin's momentary inattention and buries a blade in her chest with one hand, while the other extracts another vial of cool fluid that had popped out through the enclosure's sample output.   
The younger of the Desert clan gasps weakly in surprise and backs away only a few steps before falling to the smooth floor with a solid thump.

\----------

Allison had barely regained some feeling in her muscles, crawling behind a large machine, when all hell broke loose.

Both she and Hulk had frozen at the creepy screech coming from the opaque, glass-like separator where that nasty bitch was.   
Then she stabbed her sister in the chest and Hulk sprang into action.

Something banged on the glass on the other side while the two aliens fought, hissing together with them as though sensing the fight. 

It sounded… familiar.   
She recognized it from her nightmares.

Allie retreated further behind the machine and looked around on the other side. Blood was slowly seeping out of Snake-sisters chest but there was still an almost imperceptible movement to it. She was still breathing. _Barely_.

Animalistic howls and rattles echoed in the room with deafening power. She chanced a glance and saw Hulk, sans spear, getting his face repeatedly smashed into the glass wall, aggravating the trapped creature inside even more.

Allison swallowed and hid again. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she was breathing like a wounded hare. Her face burned and the muscles in her abdomen felt gelatinous.

If Hulk got killed, would she be next?

She looks to Snake-sister again and winces at the sound of Hulk getting thrown into a bunch of alien equipment on the other side of the room.

She has to do _something_ …

She crawls on all fours over to Snake-sister. The alien was unconscious, but she was definitely breathing.   
The wound in her chest is still bleeding and Allie knows enough about first aid not to pull the wicked knife out.  
She shakes the alien's massive shoulder and pulls on a few of her dreads. All she gets for her trouble is a twitching tusk and a faint growl.

The fight rages on, Hulk had gotten up from where he'd been thrown and was wisely keeping Snake-lady at a distance by using his extended spear, which he must have recovered when Allison wasn't looking.  
Fluorescent green blood cuts along both of their bodies, showing wounds that would normally be fatal or at least debilitating for humans in bright splotches that gave off an eery light as they fought.  
Hulk had the worst of it.

Allison grabs Snake-sister by an arm and slowly drags her under the slightly raised platform behind her, grunting in effort the entire two feet.

Snake-lady howls in pain and jumps away from Hulk, getting uncomfortably close to where Allie was. She huddles further under the platform and keeps quiet, hoping to avoid detection.

Hulk had wounded Snake-lady across her wide chest. There was a deep gash cutting over from her left clavicle, diving between her small breasts, revealing the shine of bone underneath, down to just above her stomach. He'd either been aiming to disembowel her or hadn't landed a hit on her face.

The smaller man wasn't in any better shape though. His forehead was bleeding profusely from where it had cracked the opaque glass, dripping thick blood down his face, neck and chest.  
There were many other cuts all over but that one bled the worst.

His green eyes were alert and focused though. Clearly still in the fight.

<<I should have had you castrated from the start, you little runt!>> the big woman taunted, stabbing herself in the abdomen with a vial of strange, brackish substance then hitting the console beside her with her fist still gripping the spent container, howling in both pain and victory.  
<<My children _alone_ will rule the galaxy!>> she croons as mechanisms start shifting inside and beyond the enclosure.

  
The doors to the glass room release with a puff of fog, sliding open and letting in a foreboding chill that has Allison shivering.

A dreadful hiss sounds from inside.

Allison covers her mouth to keep from screaming as the shiny black creature from the forest stumbles out. A _kainde amedha_.

_No_ , this one was different. About twice as big and with a dramatic flare to its elongated head that looked like a crown. Stood up, it's much taller than the big woman, even while stooping.

Snake-lady chitters and hums, laughing at Hulk. 

The black thing is still groggy, wobbling on its stick-thin legs. It breathes in the air and chirps towards Snake-lady almost sweetly then turns it's big domed head right at Hulk to hiss like a giant, angry snake.

<<U'darahje!>> Hulk rattles back accusingly at the big woman, pointing his spear at the new foe.

It leaps.

Hulk roars and meets it halfway, springing over equipment, scattered from the previous fight, much faster and more nimbly than the gangly creature is capable of in it's cold-drunken state.

Still, its size more than makes up for its lacking reflexes. It catches Hulk with a swipe of its tail and sends him flying into the sealed door with a painful sounding bang that dents the metal.  
He recovers just in time to scramble out of the way of the creature's slashing tail, gleaming sharp and shaped like a giant asymmetrical arrowhead at the tip.

Hulk dives for the spindly hind legs and slashes at it's joints then stabs at the slightly meatier part of its hind quarters. The monster screeches in pain and fury, each swipe back getting faster and more stable as it shakes off the cold.

Allison winces at Hulk's angry growls every time some of them glance him, scratching deep gouges into his already wounded body.

There is acid pouring from the bug's cuts, eating at the floor, but whatever material the sturdy stone-like slabs are made of proves to be resistant. The yellow blood pools and splashes around the creature, barely leaving pockmarks and forcing Hulk to dance and weave around them and the dangerous claws, tail and mouths.

Hulk maneuvers and jumps all over the place, giving the thing a good run-around in the available space.   
Allison can hear him breathing hard, his movements becoming more labored.   
He's tiring.

He parries a mighty blow and ducks under a vicious bite, continuing the move and sliding between the creature's legs then rolling to get his feet under him.  
The move made him touch some of the acid blood but he only grunts in pain and continues his forward motion, sprinting for the wall, jumping off a table full of vials and causing it to fall, shattering the samples behind him then running up the wall a good ten feet while twirling his spear and pushing off of it just at the right moment to sail over the creature, which had been in the middle of turning, and land on it's back with a vicious snarl.

Hulk drives the spear into the monster's back, almost impaling it straight through as it screeches in pain then quickly jumps off before it catches him with its sharp claws.

Allison covers her ears at the noise, flattening herself against the wall. Snake-sister twitches before her and opens her beady orange-yellow eyes.  
She reaches above and tries to pull herself up by grabbing around the surface they are hidden under. Allison tries to draw her back but one clumsy shove from the alien has her thrown back against the wall.  
Snake-sister manages to get herself up into a sitting position and brings something down in the hand she used to pull herself on.

It's the same kind of injection that bitch used when Hulk had barged in with Allison in tow.  
  
The alien injects it into her belly as well, position strangely reminiscent to where Allison had been stabbed back in the laboratory. She grabs another one and repeats the process on the other side. Her breathing is shallow and more blood pours out of her wound but she crouches with a groan and finally rises to her feet.

Hulk had been dodging the monster while Allison was distracted with the willful not-dead woman and Snake-lady had been watching the fight. 

The big woman isn't looking so smug anymore though, now that Hulk is actually winning, all he has to do is get on the ugly bug's back again and finish the job. He's lagging though, breathing hard and practically throwing himself away from the monster's angry swipes.  
Snake-lady tracks him with her eyes, she was readying something tubular and dark hanging at her hip. A sort of gun?

Snake-sister pulls the knife out of her chest with an agonized, inhuman scream that distracts Hulk into getting back-handed across the room by the kainde amedha and draws the big woman's attention.

Several things happen at once; the black thing screeches in fury and scrambles up towards them as Snake-sister hurls the knife at her betrayer and the latter pulls on the trigger of the strange gun, launching a wide net at Hulk and pinning him face-first to the wall he was just peeling himself off of.

The knife embeds into Snake-lady's shoulder with a deep, meaty thud as Snake-sister falls back, fresh spurts of blood erupting from her chest.

The serpent's momentum and wounded, uncoordinated limbs make it crash into the last alien standing and the both of them go down in a mess of tangles limbs, pained and angry hisses and splattering acid blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> thwei = blood
> 
> ki'cti-pa = combi-stick
> 
> awu-asa = armor
> 
> kainde amedha = hard meat/xenomorph
> 
> u'darahje = abomination
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> I like to imagine the puzzle boxes look a little bit like the Faberg fractals made by Tom Beddard (check 'em out, they're really cool).
> 
> Also, today's my birthday! Have some angst, on the house!


	12. The untouchable one

He blinks and wipes the crusting thwei out of his eyes, making way for a fresh wave of it to pour over from the reopened wound on his head.

His forehead is pulsating in time with his hearts.   
He had allowed fury to cloud his judgement and had been swiftly disarmed by the former Elder Physician turned abomination.

No matter, he has been trained to fight through pain and injury. And plain vision is not as useful against the kainde amedha as his other senses anyway.   
Yaut'ja see the serpents as more of a moving reflection of ambient heat against the backdrop than anything else. They are the worthiest of prey and possess perfect camouflage as well as intelligence and an undeniable instinct to survive and propagate by any means necessary.

His helmet would have been useful in helping him spot it, and protect his head from damage, but he has no such luxuries now.   
His own damn fault for not equipping his armor…  
What he wouldn't give for a sivk'va-tai now.

The young baiun, size denoting it was barely in its adolescent phase from what he remembers of his extensive research, is still cold enough from storage that he can see it and feel it sufficiently to fight. He is doubly lucky it is inexperienced and half starved as well.

With his ki'cti-pa back in his possession, he weaves in and out of the serpent's reach, slashing at it's muscles and tendons to bring it down.

  
He takes out his frustration on it at failing to end the abomination.   
She had underestimated him when wielding a spear. All his life, Hul'gkan had fought against larger and stronger opponents. He had mastered the ki'cti-pa first and had become proficient even in the most difficult stances early on. The chakt-ra came second. Keeping prey and opponents at a distance or slipping under their guard was essential for him and his swiftness and martial skills could be eventually overpowered as the abomination had painfully reminded him.  
The combi-stick was not as flashy as the other hand-held weapons or the dah'kte, but it served him best.

He'd executed the perfect Hiju stance and almost disembloweled the madwoman. She had dodged just fast enough for the blade at the tip of his weapon to scrape against her chest in stead of pierce her abdomen.  
While her reflexes had dulled with an obvious lack of practice, she was still far stronger and more experienced at hand-to-hand combat than he, and had at first disarmed him as though he were a foolish Unblood - he had certainly acted like one.   
Had she not kicked him right back at his weapon after he'd made a grab for her precious vial, he might not have been able to hold her off long enough to land in this _current_ mess.

  
He snarls at the serpent as it tries to take a bite out of him and slides under it, touching some of the caustic blood on the way. The acid is not as strong when cooled, a small mercy.  
He pushes his battered and tired body into executing a running jump, right over the baiun's head then he roars his victory as he runs it through with his spear.  
Immediately, he realizes his crooning is premature. The strike isn't as strong as he had meant, he is more tired than he realizes and the baiun's hide and chitinous armor must be stronger than a drone's.   
The weapon should have come out the other side but it only remains lodged in the creature's body.  
He curses and jumps off awkwardly, unable to collapse his weapon in time just as the serpent clumsily reaches up to grab him as it screeches. His ki'cti-pa remains lodged in its back, the length sticking out suggesting that he'd just barely missed the heart.   
  
Now he needs to outmaneuver it again and his legs are refusing to move as swiftly as he commands them.

Yaut'ja can survive a great deal of damage and still be effective killers, but all the bloodloss and wounds he had accrued from multiple opponents today are catching up to him. He needs to end this fast in order to still be able to battle the abomination.   
He cannot let it live. His honor and pride demand it.

Hul'gkan dodges and weaves between the baiun's claws. It is sloppier, more desperate as acid gushes out of every wound and barely able to hold itself up.  
It _knows_ death is near.

Vay'n'ritja's sudden scream of agony draws his attention away for just a fraction of a second and the next thing he feels is the wall crushing into his front.  
He groans in protest at the new pain, something inside him had _cracked_.  
He doesn't even have a chance to push away from the cold slab of rock, expecting more punishment from the baiun even in his half-dazed state, when a grid of molten agony digs into his back and pins him to the smooth stone.

The pain is excrutiating and his roar joins with the abomination's hiss across from him. His head is turned, tresses sizzling under the superheated metal wires of the t'gou u'linja net that has him pinned to the wall. 

To be caught like prey… he roars his _fury_ this time, reflexively pushing against the net and making it dig painfully into his shoulder.  
He stops before it penetrates too deeply. The net is useful for any big game as they always struggle against it, triggering the automated spiked points where the wires converge to draw them tighter in order to subdue.

Hul'gkan flattens himself against the wall, wincing at the piece of one of his severed tresses sliding off right at the corner of his sight.  
The spikes have drilled halfway through the thick, durable stone and he reaches for the one nearest to his right hand, careful not to push against the wires, and starts tugging it out while keeping an eye on his surroundings. His other hand is trapped between his chest and the wall at an angle that makes it impossible to slide out without potentially severing his right deltoid at the shoulder.

  
A vindictive laugh works its way up his throat at the sight of the abomination struggling under the young serpent queen.   
The hard-meat is dazed and weakened, slumped over its creator's form and bleeding copious amounts of deadly thwei everywhere, unable to lift itself now that it is horizontal.   
He'd cut at the tough tendons of its hind legs and now they had finally snapped completely under the strain of running and pushing itself up.

Je-st'sha're is cursing up a storm from underneath it, pushing and kicking at it as the serpent whines like a wounded hound.

<<Get _off_ me, you stupid animal!>> she howls as yet more acid blood pours over her, sizzling through her thick hide. It must be warm enough by now to be effective.

Another amused rumble escapes him. It sounds weak and he hates the whine of hurt at the end but he can't help it.  
<<You get… what you deserve… abomination...>> he spits out haltingly, keeping the muscles of his legs tense lest he slip in his own blood and shave his hide off. His legs spasm but he manages to remain upright, finally dislodging one of the spikes and sliding his hand up to the next one.

Je-st'sha're howls, long and agonized. The acid must be eating away at something important.  
She redoubles her efforts, the pain lending her an unexpected surge of strength as she strains her legs and pushes at the serpent's chest.

The hard meat has regained enough of its senses to prop itself up on its four arms, but slips - he'd almost cut off a spindly, six-fingered hand, and falls back heavily over the abomination with a weak screech.   
Perhaps he had penetrated the heart after all, although obviously not enough to kill it.

The Elder Physician grunts but just barely keeps the serpent balanced on her forearms and knees. If she escapes before Hul'gkan can remove the net trapping him, all will be lost.

He shuffles and pulls on the spike with more force, cutting himself deeper. Nothing else matters now, he must ignore the pain and free himself. He will soon have to fight.

Another spike is freed and then another that hadn't buried itself deep enough into the stone. A couple more and he might be able to slip his arm out.

More howls and hisses are coming from both the abomination and the serpent.   
The young queen has finally managed to raise itself on two still functioning elbows and coos in confusion and pain at the abomination. Je-st'sha're has enough room to slip out and she furiously pushes under the serpent in an undignified wiggle.

Hul'gkan's blood covered paws slip over a spike in his haste to pull it out and he swears, trying again.  
He growls under his breath as the Elder cussed at him.

<<I should _never_ have stopped your bearer from culling you at birth, you miserable, failed excuse for a… >> she trails off in another string of curses as the baiun's thin arms give out again.

Her words give him momentary pause in his careful struggle to get free. What was she talking about?

_No_ , he must not allow her to distract him.

<<You arrogant little whelp, all you had to do was take your pet and _go_ , but now I'll have to end _both_ of you.>> she mutters while heaving against the serpent.  
<<When I get out of here - >> she grunts as her back slides in acid << \- I will mount your Trophy's head on my wall, but not before I feed you your own entra - _Aaah_!>>

Hul'gkan had been focusing on gripping a particularly stubborn spike with his claws and hadn't seen little Fire Eyes leaping off a table and onto the baiun's back, driving his ki'cti-pa the rest of the way through its heart and into the abomination underneath.  
The ooman's own grunt of effort is swallowed up by the serpent's last wail and the Elder's scream.

The baiun falls back down, pinning the abomination beneath it again. Her head and a shoulder are the only parts of her poking out and she chokes on her own hot blood, screaming and coughing.  
The tip of the combistick must have pierced through her stomach. That or the fresh wave of acid was eating her alive.

<<You - !>> Je-st'sha're screeches and tries to shift up. <<You dare, tarei'hsa - **AAAAGH**!>> she screams again as little Fire Eyes leans on the spear, embedding it further.

She hacks out more blood, convulsing ineffectively, and huffs up incredulously at the ooman.

<<You would kill one with child?! Have you _no honor_!?>> the Elder pleads between wracking coughs.

Hul'gkan stares at the scene with one eye, gaping in surprise, his claws slack against the spike he'd been working at.

Little Fire Eyes' chest is heaving in exertion as she gingerly kneels, mindful of the acid, and stares down at the abomination. He is too awed to yell at her to finish it.

<< _Fuck… your… honor..._ >> she spits back and twists the ki'cti-pa all the way through, leaning her whole body into the motion.

\----------

The agonized screams and curses last for minutes or hours. Allison is too numb to tell.   
Her head is throbbing, her eye and cheek are so swollen it feels like the skin is close to bursting.   
The spear cut her hands where she had first gripped it awkwardly and her abdomen still feels wrong.

She had been hiding like a coward while Hulk struggled for his life, listening as the two hunters taunted each other from where they were both trapped and crying like a little kid at every inhuman screech.  
  
The need to check on her surroundings made her pop her head out from under the measly cover, her one good eye wide in fright.

A strange sort of clarity had settled over her when she'd seen the nasty bitch starting to free herself and heard Hulk's strangled wheezing.   
She'd never thought he could sound so weak before.

There had been a choice. Either hide in her little corner under the table and let the big woman get up, hope to be spared after she finished off Hulk or… take a risk.

Snake-lady had hurt her in ways Allison wasn't entierly certain she understood yet and had never treated her as anything more than a lab-rat.  
Hulk may have hunted, humiliated and betrayed her, but he'd taught her things too, talked to her, made jokes and even tried to make her feel better sometimes in that ass-backwards way of his… He'd shown her the _jungle_.

In the end, it hadn't really been much of a choice. The big woman had chosen for her.

The decision had been made long before this anyway, when they'd set foot on this god-forsaken planet. _Better the devil you know_ , after all.

Now she stood beside the dead beasts, trying not to gag at the smell of acid-burned flesh and ichor that came from the carcasses.

Hulk's hiss of frustration snapped her out of her trance and she picked her way across the room, careful not to touch any of the yellow blood and hopping over the long black tail curled to the monster's side.

She gasped at the sight of his ruined back and shoulder, her injured palm going up to her mouth in horror.  
He looked like he'd been grilled alive, the shiny metal wires embedded deeply into his back. Multiple severed black dreads had fallen to his feet, decorations and all.  
  
Even hurt beyond comprehention, he was still struggling to free himself, growling as he pulled at the ends of the net pinning him to the wall.

Allison darted back at the dead creatures and cautiosly approached them to pull the big knife out of Snake-lady's exposed shoulder, hissing as her fingertips touched tiny drops of the acid blood sprayed over the handle.  
It came out after some finagling with an ooze of fluorescent green. Neither of the bodies moved or showed any signs of life.

She hurried back to Hulk, recoiling when he rattled at her in warning.   
He was rather exposed like this. _Vulnerable_ even. All she had to do was approach from his immobile side and…

Allison shook the thought away, squeezing her good eye shut to banish the mental image.

She held out her arms in a placating gesture, pointing with the huge knife at the wall where the gray metal spikes were drilled in, using both hands to hold the blade up.

A luminous green eye examines her before he nods minutely.   
He'd already freed up his right arm enough that he had enough swinging space to kill her with a quick swipe if he felt squirrely about her intentions at any point.

She worked at the spikes around his legs while he continued poking out the ones around his head. Two of the spikes had embedded into the meat of his left thigh and calf, making the net loose from the lower back down. She left those alone for now, scraping off the rest, willing her hands to stop shaking lest she touch the wires and make it all worse.

It took a few minutes but together they'd removed enough of the spikes that he could step out, gingerly lifting the net out of his abused flesh and skin to leave it hanging, glowing green, on the wall.

The spikes piercing his leg were unceremoniously yanked out last with a low snarl.

She backed away from him as he straightened and took a couple of shaky steps away from the net, using the wall for support.   
How much could these things bleed before they passed out? Snake-lady's blood and other things had mixed with the yellow acid, making it impossible to tell which was which and Allison hadn't checked on the sister yet.

Hulk stared at her with those vivid green eyes, expression unreadable, then inhaled deeply and took a few unsteady steps away from the wall on his own before stumbling, teetering on his bad leg.  
On reflex, she dropped the knife and went to take hold of his least injured left side, helping support his wounded leg.

Goddamn, but he was _heavy_.   
She grunted in effort as her knees bent under the strain.

It was under his stolid, beady stare that she realized she'd never willingly been this close to him before. Every other interaction between them that involved touching had been initiated by him, either to teach, discipline or carry her like a sack of grain and there were also the hits during their training fights.  
Well, no, not all of them, there was that _one_ time she'd hidden behind him but that didn't count.

She gulped under his scrutiny. Her right arm had gone around his back to help support him, careful of the cuts, while her other was clutching his wrist as his big, muscled arm was slung over her shoulder. His skin was crusty with blood and the texture was unlike anything she'd ever touched before, a little pebbly with a waxy shine to it that was neither reptilian or scaly like a snake, nor slimy like a salamander's. It was overall a little rougher and thicker than hers, taunt over the muscles.

He was tense, obviously uncomfortable, his body a solid, warm wall next to her. She almost slithered away, afraid those deadly black claws would sink into her in anger at her audacity, but the rockhard muscles over her shoulders shifted as he took a step forward, forcing her to follow.

He was steering them towards the two monstruous bodies piled over each other to stare at them for a beat, before chuffing and passing them in order to reach Snake-sister's form laid out close to the platform Allison had been hiding under.

Hulk kneeled next to her, taking a scaly wrist in his free hand and chuckled after a short pause.

\----------

A blooded _ooman_?  
His _Trophy_ at that.

He'd seen it with his own eyes and yet still had trouble believing it.

One of the healers who lived nearby had been summoned to look him and Vay'n'ritja over. He'd declared her continuous survival nothing short but a gift from Paya herself.

The fallout of the battle had left Hul'gkan drained and sluggish. He could hardly move a muscle without wincing in pain. This was by far the worst beating he had ever taken in his entire life.  
He'd still dragged himself over to Vay'n'ritja's still open rooms to retrieve his gear personally once they'd been freed of the locked room of horrors.

Little Fire Eyes had remained stuck to his side or close enough during the entire time while they waited for help after using the abominations gauntlet computer to call for aid.  
 _That_ had taken an inordinate amount of effort to dig out, he'd had to retrieve his ki'cti-pa from the dead serpent to then use it over a broken piece of machinery as leverage to push the baiun corpse off enough for Fire Eyes to pull the madwoman's arm out.   
She couldn't get the computer off so he'd just hacked the forearm off at the elbow, making the little ooman shriek and fall on her rump, scrambling away from the appendage as though it were a live snake.

Laughing had _hurt_.

Deactivating the biohazard lock had proven impossible. The madwoman had taken the key to it with her in death.   
A veritable hoard of eta had been set about removing a piece of the wall to let them out.  
Fire Eyes had stared at the unworthy, broken bodies of the eta with mute horror as they shuffled out once their work was done.

The healer had first rushed Vay'n'ritja out to be sent to better equipped facilities and then returned for him.

He'd been fortunate none of the wounds were too serious. Some wires had dug into his shoulder, partially severing the muscle, which would need more attention but the rest would scar over.  
His cracked ribs would take a little longer but he'd have full functionality back soon enough.

The scars though, would be horrendous and _unworthy_. He had been trapped like _prey_.   
Humiliated.   
Disfigured.  
 _Defeated_.  
By the abomination.

He hadn't even terminated the serpent and abomination himself. Fire Eyes had. Saving his life in the process.  
Certainly, she would never had been able to take them in a straight fight, but she had killed them both when he had been effectively useless and clearly out of the fight.

Still, he could not fault her. She had acted correctly when it was needed and hadn't broken the rules of engagement. Otherwise, had he still been able to do battle, he would have had to kill her himself for interfering with his hunt.

The Elders and Arbitrators that had been called to inspect the scene had been doubtful of his claims at first, although none had outright denied his words and risk provoking him into a challenge. Fighting a deeply wounded opponent was dishonorable.

He was confident the Elder Physician was paranoid enough to keep surveillance even on her most secret and shameful experiments. He _hoped_ it was so since it would provide all the evidence needed.

Hul'gkan limped out of the cursed room once the healer was done with his preliminary treatment and finished administering replacement fluids, nodding along at the firm indications on how to continue treating his shoulder so the muscle would heal correctly.

He wished for a stiff drink or ten to dull the pain but knew he would later need plenty of food and a lot of water in stead to replenish his energy and stimulate thwei regeneration.   
He was tired enough to actually look forward to the next few cycles of rest in order to heal properly.   
Normally, he despised idling.

He trilled for Fire Eyes to follow him before catching himself. Treating her as a pet now would be another stain on his honor. While it could be argued that the kill hadn't been solely hers, and thus not equivalent to passing a chiva, she had still saved his life and most importantly - spared him a dishonorable death.   
Hul'gkan knew he owed her much more respect. She had elevated herself well above a Trophy. How far up was still unclear.

The ooman followed anyway, he had insisted she receive treatment for her wounds before himself, to ensure the healer was thorough.   
He growled at the memory of her diagnostic. His failures extended to not protecting his former Trophy in addition to his capture and defeat. 

The abomination had broken her vow and Fire Eyes had suffered for his oversight, greed and arrogance.

His temporary dwelling was close by, he had taken the small residence for the duration of his stay here. A permanent, larger dwelling had been assigned to him in another settlement that belonged to his clan but he'd wished to be close to the Science building for the mating season since all the women worth pursuing which had an active interest in him were gathered there anyway.

Ironically, he'd gotten everything he'd ever wanted.   
Succeeded in his chiva and gained honor in addition to simply surviving, earned his own ship and solitary living space on the planet, mated some of the strongest and most intelligent women around and even had pups on the way.  
Somehow, it was all hollow.

Walking away from the Sciences building with his head held high and trying to control his limp so that it was less noticeable as other warriors stared and muttered amongst each other made him itch for a fight.

Fire Eyes followed by his elbow on his left side, eyes held low as he had taught her, gaze darting up to him every few heartbeats as though expecting him to collapse again. 

He _wanted_ to be angry at her.   
For taking his kills although they hadn't been his.   
For her submissive attitude and ignorance that she was no longer a mere Trophy.  
For looking so hurt and dejected and yet still showing concern for him.  
For saving his worthless hide.

But he _couldn't_.

They reached his small abode, hidden between an outcropping of small trees and he impatiently waved over the access code. The moment he was inside, his limp came back fully and he caught himself on the lobby wall. 

That damned abomination had robbed him of all his hard-won honor.  
He punched the rough hewn stone he was leaning against, cracking it with the force of his fury and splitting open his knuckles. 

His roar was long and rough and less satisfying than he had wanted it to be.

Hul'gkan stumbled to the nearest rest surface, a high-backed leather couch, and slumped on it on his front tiredly. The bed would have probably been better but he'd only made it this far on willpower alone.   
He couldn't move another step even if he wanted to.

Blinking slowly at the square heat of day coming through the front entrance, he saw the little ooman's slight form hesitating just at the threshold. Her face had recovered more of its natural roundness in stead of that horrible swelling from before.

<<Come inside, ooman.>> he grunted as his vision blurred. He'd lost enough blood that the healing gel was starting to make him drowsy.

A stray concern that she might kill him in his sleep passed through his mind but was quickly discarded. She would not have helped release him if she'd wanted him dead. Fire Eyes could have easily used the ki'cti-pa or knife to stab him through, weakened and trapped as he was.

Another shame to add to his growing pile of dishonorable deeds, not only had he been indirectly saved by a primitive, but also spared when she'd had the power and opportunity to end him.   
He briefly pondered how primitives, oomans included, were capable of enduring captivity as aseigan and pets. He'd always found the trait demeaning, a weakness and a clear indication that they deserved the fate, earning honor only through serving their betters.

Having been temporarily restrained himself, he found the concept _despicable_. How did they not fight back?

<<Me _human_ name not.>> she grumbled, interrupting his scattered thoughts.

To think, _this_ is what it took to finally get her to speak to him again.  
Hul'gkan rumbled out a fading laugh, clutching his side. He had many bruises and hairline fractures from the numerous impacts he'd endured everywhere on his body.

Even surly, he found the sound of her voice pleasant and reassuring.   
Why had he thought it obnoxiously high pitched before? He was too tired to remember.

<<Well done, little Fire Eyes...>> he trailed off as the unrelenting waves of unconsciousness the magnitude of which only the deep sleep of healing could bring overtook all his senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> thwei = blood
> 
> kainde amedha = hard-meat/xenomorph
> 
> sivk'va-tai = plasmacaster
> 
> baiun = xenomorph queen
> 
> ki'cti-pa = combistick
> 
> chakt-ra = hunting disks
> 
> dah'kte = wristblades
> 
> t'gou u'linja = net gun
> 
> tarei'hsan = insect/unworthy opponent/unimportant being
> 
> eta = slave(s). Yaut'ja who lose all honor and are too mutilated to continue fighting but still able to live.
> 
> chiva = trial/right of passage into adulthood
> 
> aseigan = servant
> 
> \---
> 
> And here's the finale of the first arc of this story, hope you liked it and see you next week!
> 
> (Comments feed me and I hunger, I really want to know if you liked the conclusion to the first part of Allison and Hulk's journey!)


	13. The honor in survival

The big bastard had been fast asleep for days.

It took Allison a few hours to relax enough not to jump at every wheezy snort coming out of Hulk's ugly crab-face.  
The alien had just passed out cold.

At first she'd been afraid he was dead, but the steady rise and fall of his ruined back confirmed that he was breathing.  
His wounds were still horrific, even with the super-gel already working at closing the gashes up. He looked like he'd been _grilled alive_.

She'd spent the first day tiptoeing around, exploring what she assumed would be her world from now on.   
It was a fairly large place, the big room they were in seemed like some sort of very barren recreational area.   
She recognized a simple kitchen the next door over from where she drank water and prepared some food for herself, she was ravenous.   
Then she found a huge bedroom opposite the entrance that she quickly ducked out of. There as a wall full of skulls displayed like trophies. No way was she messing with anything in there.   
She hadn't been allowed in what she'd believed to be the two aliens' bedrooms back on the ship either. No reason to go exploring the morbid alien skulls now.

The bathroom was also enormous, bigger than her whole apartment back home.  
It had a pool larger than her bedroom. The water looked to be perpetually flowing, falling from a wide, rectangular opening near the ceiling and bubbling hot on the surface, the steam making everything hazy and the air humid.

It took her a while to work up the guts to use it, but she figured she needed to clean herself of all the crusty green blood and grime still on her.   
The doctor alien who'd treated her under Hulk's determined jade stare had done a pretty good job tending to her wounds but he'd been very obviously disgusted at having to touch her.   
A good soak would probably relax her muscles too.

Plus, Hulk never had a problem with her using the facilities when they were on the ship, now that he was passed out he wouldn't even know it, and she hadn't had a real bath since then either.   
The room she'd been kept in back at the pyramid only had a high pressure shower thing that blasted her from all sides and made her feel like one of those wrinkly dogs her grandma used to have.

The pool was deep enough that she could drown in if she wasn't careful but there was a more shallow area where she could sit or kneel and the water would only come up to her chin or neck. For people like Hulk it probably only went up to chest level.

She'd spent hours just floating around in hot water or standing under the mini-waterfall to feel the pressure on her scalp, (thankfully, it had temperature and concentration controls like on the ship) listening to her own sluggish pulse beating in her eardrums and trying not to think about anything at all.  
It had worked… for a little while. 

Her mind never had been particularly orderly.

No tears came though.  
In fact, she could barely feel anything at all. The memories of the fight, of what she'd done, brought nothing but a faraway, dull sort of disdain.

Wether it was for herself or everything else was unclear. Perhaps it was both.

The peace and quiet did her more bad than good. The nightmares came back from the first time she allowed herself to sleep, curled up in a nook - scenes of her abduction, imprisonment and experiments mixing together with the image of those disgusting, skeletal black bugs haunting her every step.  
What was worse now though, was that in stead of Allison herself being the victim, it was everyone she ever cared about suffering as she had. She could only watch them get torn apart or waste away or be beaten to death by angry hunters for small acts of disobedience.   
Once they were all gone, it was her turn again - which was almost a _relief_.  
At least the faceless woman was silent. Whatever her fate, Allison was certain she was long gone.

Still, her nightmares were the only times she truly felt. When she woke up, her heart would be racing and there was moisture in her hair or trailing down her temples. 

Waking only brought the dullness back and she couldn't even bring herself to do her usual workout routine, still sore from her ordeal and uncomfortable in her own skin. She'd tried once, but the physical exertion, the smell of her own sweat and certain motions and stances brought back unpleasant memories.

She could clearly recall the strange give of meat under her hands, the jarring _twist_ and _burst_ of pushing between ribs and _piercing_ through rough chitin and the sudden, softer - almost smooth - slip into another body underneath.

She wished she could sleep as much as Hulk. 

Her own body though, still demanded food and water and eventually she would seek the pool to relax enough to fall asleep again.   
She'd choked herself awake once after nodding off with her head resting on the rounded stone edge. 

Days passed and Hulk still slept like the dead. She'd check every now and then if he was still breathing.  
He didn't move much except for shifting his face from one side to the other.

Allison could now study him at her leisure. The horrific new wounds were healing much faster than any scrapes she'd ever had. They would be mere scars soon.  
Initially, she would avoid looking at him head-on unless he was slapping her around in his weird version of training or insisted on her watching the play-fights with Gramps and in recent months he'd been mostly absent after he'd loaned her out or she'd been purposefully ignoring him (brief outing in the jungle notwithstanding).

With nothing else to do, she would spend hours watching the big alien rest and sometimes fidget in his sleep. His snores were surprisingly subdued for someone so big who didn't even have a nose and except for a few grunts whenever he moved he didn't make much noise.   
The presence of another being, even if it was just Hulk, was oddly reassuring. 

She was stuck in this house untill he woke up.  
Not that she'd tried very hard to find a way out. Most of the time she had trouble working up the will to eat.   
The front door had closed and locked automatically once she'd fully stepped inside and what looked like tinted windows (they were similar to the 'glass' wall in the cockpit of the ship) didn't look like they could be opened.

Plus, last time she'd tried to escape she'd almost gotten eaten by a giant alien animal - which was also the big bastard's fault… in part.   
Freedom no longer held such strong appeal. Especially since this dwelling was so close to the jungle.

\----------

Allison was resting on her back on the cool floor, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling when Hulk stirred.  
He grunted something into the rough, fuzzy leather of his huge couch and pushed off on his elbow with a hiss.

They blinked at each other for a good minute before his massive body rumbled and moved, his motions uncharacteristically stunted and awkward compared to the predatory grace she was used to seeing on him.

She returned to studying the miniscule fissures in the rock above her, starting the count over while listening to Hulk mumble and clatter stuff around in the kitchen.

First he drank several cups of water - or, small buckets really, big aliens needed big cups, then she heard him tear into some of the frozen meat in the refrigeration unit, crunching the ligaments and small bones of whatever unfortunate creature had been killed to fill his pantry with those pointy inner teeth and swallowing whole.

She'd seen Gramps and him eat on several ocassions. _Not_ the most graceful act to witness.

Things got a little fuzzy as she dozed once Hulk left for the bathroom for an indeterminate amount of time.

She was unceremoniously woken up by a scaly foot nudging her shoulder.  
Allison groaned and cursed hoarsely while rubbing her eyes, she'd been sleeping so well - no nightmares at all.

"What…" she grumbled, sitting up on the cool floor and squinting up at him.   
Normally, the sight of him standing like that above her would have her scurrying away to avoid getting squished but presently she couldn't care less. 

<<Don't sleep on the floor.>> he growled back, looking down at her like she was something icky he'd just stepped in.

"Not like I have anywhere else to sleep…" she grumped while slowly pushing her tired carcass into standing, wobbling a little when the room spun around her.

Hulk gave her a queer look and crossed his beefy arms.

<<What is wrong with you?>> he queried attempting to bend over to look at her but stopping with a barely-there flinch when he pulled at his obviously still tender scars.

She craned her neck to get a good look at his pinched, ugly features, a little unconfortable that he was crowding into her personal space.

"I'm just peachy." she muttered and slid back a fraction.

A quizzical tilt of his head was all the prompting her gave to continue.

"It means I'm fine." she huffed.

  
<<It is dishonorable to lie, little ooman.>> Hulk chastised after a short moment of deliberation.

  
Allison could feel the vein popping at her temple as her blood pressure sky-rocketed.

"My name isn't _human_! How many fucking times do I have to tell you?! You overgrown, crab-faced... geko!!!" she floundered on the last part, unable to find a suitable moniker - 'crocodile' sounded too badass.

She was panting by the end of her rathfull yell, even more dizzy with the force of her emotion and the rush of blood to her head.

Hulk clicked and for a heartbeat she thought he might smack her again but then he burst out into his stupid 'hrr hrr' laugh, holding an arm over his middle and throwing his head back in glee. 

She really wanted to punch him for it, but his amusement was infectious and soon enough she was giggling along with him, more out of sheer relief and desperation than real mirth.   
She couldn't remembered the last time she'd laughed like this, there were tears in her eyes.

Hulk's dumb cackles subsided when Allison started heaving and crying in earnest, a puzzled clicking noise replacing his laughter when she didn't stop.

\----------

Hul'gkan reached out to grab a hold of little Fire Eyes and shake some sense back into her but she ducked out of the way faster than he'd anticipated and all he pawed was thin air.

The strange display continued as she ran for the bathing chamber, making odd, strangled sounds that echoed off the water and walls, creating a distressing cacophony that he couldn't interpret properly.

Was she choking? On what?

She'd been making those oddly endearing sounds of ooman joy barely a few moments ago.   
Was the little thing broken?   
What had she been doing in the time he'd been regenerating? 

He needed to check his gauntlet computer.  
She'd obviously discovered how to take care of herself during that time, even if she looked more hollowed out than ever. The whole dwelling, except for his sleeping chambers, held traces of her modified scent.

He was too surprised and confused to follow at first, listening as the primitive was attempting to control her hyperventilated breathing and trying to piece together what might have caused such an extreme reaction.

The surveillance apparatus installed would unravel the mystery. He slid the gauntlet on and it started powering up as it sensed his heat signature, he was about to open the interface but paused with his claw hovering above the keys at the sudden and suspicious lack of noise.

Hul'gkan trilled to gain her attention, waiting in silence.   
When nothing but a faded splash replied, he went for the bathing chamber as fast as his still healing leg allowed, making the distance in a half-stumbled leap over the couch.

The ooman was nowhere to be seen.

The sound of air bubbling to the surface of the pool drew his gaze and he dove in without a second thought, grabbing the little ape by the nape of her neck and raising her, spluttering and gasping, out of the water. Fortunately, she was at the shallow end and he'd bumped into her.   
She'd changed the temperature setting to suit her needs and he couldn't see her properly in the warm water.

He threw her back on solid ground and leveled himself up, wincing at some of the reopened gashes. He'd have to treat those again, but for now he had other things to concern himself with.

<<Foolish primitive!>> he growled as the skinny ape rose on her elbows. <<Why die now, when the path to honor is opened to you?!>> he demanded with a snarl of disbelief. He was surprised by the powerfully unpleasant, oily feeling pooling in his chest at the thought of little Fire Eyes perishing.

With a start, he realized that what she had lost might be too much to bear.   
That wretched abomination had wiped out any chance of Fire Eyes bearing offspring. He'd never considered the prospect of multiplying his pets - which was a moot point anyway, now that she was no longer a trophy.  
He remembered the u'darahje's taunt during the fight. 

To think he'd been in danger of being Culled and by extension possibly be denied the right to reproduce before his Chiva sent a shudder down his spine.   
Castration wasn't unheard of but not often practiced in his Clan and many others. If pups were too flawed, which was rare to begin with, they would be Culled early on. Generally, those who escaped the Culling would be deemed too weak anyway later in life and operated upon, although it wasn't a rule.  
While not often enforced, the view that those who undermined expectations severely should be denied even accidental participation in the gene pool was widespread.

He needed to have a very serious conversation with his bearer sometime in the near future.

Fire eyes was still crouching in a pathetic heap on the slick floor. The thin tendrils of her tresses - hair, oomans called it, stuck to her face, neck and trailed limply down her back and arms.

He wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her, but found himself unusually hesitant, his own honor demanded he treat her with more respect now. And approaching her in rage would only exacerbate the matter.

"I…" she spluttered some more "... wasn't…" 

Hul'gkan waited impatiently as she took deep breaths and looked up at him with resolute, if drenched, hatred. The sight of it was a good deal better than the empty husk from before.

"Goddamn, it got up my nose." she snorted and cussed inarticulately while sniffling disgustingly. Why oomans had developed the protruding olfactory organ that way must have been an evolutionary mistake. It wasn't even that sensitive. 

He squatted in front of her, gathering his tusks close to his face to stop from hissing in pain at the uncomfortable stretch of still scarring flesh.

<<Why.>> he clicked.

Fire Eyes sat back on her rump, only slipping a little, and met his stare. Her big prey eyes were flushed with blood, her face suffused in angry splotches on her cheeks, nose and fleshy lips, hot even compared to the rest of her body that had been submerged in what was hot water for her. 

She chuffed is sour amusement and shook her little head.   
"I just… needed to get my breathing under control."

His head tilted in query, unsure how the act of almost drowning helped.

"If I'm underwater, I can't cry. It forces me to hold my breath." she explained.

Hul'gkan had read of the ooman lacrimal glands and how various emotions were expressed through shedding saltwater from their eyes. 

<<Why?>> he clicked again, softer this time.

Fire Eyes blinked at him in dumbfounded confusion. He wasn't certain if both her eyelids were moving at the same time. They were swollen unpleasantly.

<<You oomans have no discipline, for the mind or the body. If you require to grieve, it is better to do so now than let it fester.>> he shook his head, heedless of the way it brought forth his mangled tresses. 

She brought her pointy knees up and hugged them in front of her, still staring at him although he knew it was not in challenge. He wondered if all oomans were so bold or if Fire Eyes was just an outlier.

" … what if I can't stop..." she whispered and broke eye contact.

He did not know how to respond. 

Grief was not something that was often expressed in his culture. Death and injury were simply a part of life.  
If warriors perished with honor on a hunt then they were celebrated, they would serve at the halls of Cetanu for the rest of existence. If they died dishonorably then they deserved no more consideration.   
The loss of pups before gestation completed was sometimes a matter of great sorrow, especially in recent spans, but it was generally believed that if the young one was too weak to survive in the womb, it would certainly be too weak to survive life outside of it.  
There were accidents, of course, when young lives were lost too early or atrocities were committed by Ic'jit clans that either deserved special funerary rights or harsh and decisive retribution be delivered, respectively.

Personal loss was also similarly treated. Unblods were taught from early on how to manage their thoughts and feelings. The mind was the strongest weapon a sain'ja had, the body was an immediate second followed by weapons and armor. Training in the mental scape, or the spiritual realm as the Ancients called it, through meditation was arguably more important than martial skill.

Those who neglected the mental and spiritual side of their training often fell into mindless rages and broke the Code of Honor. Most Ic'jit were hotheaded as youths, arrogant beyond their actual skill and prone to unnecessarily violent outbursts.

Hul'gkan himself had fought against his own rage on a daily basis. As an Unblood, his stature had a attracted plenty of derision.   
His bearer had warned him to always reign himself in and wait to beat his opponents in jehdin-jehdin.   
His high success rate had eventually earned him some modicum of respect, although a few bitter opponents still cheated during supposedly fair combat and ganged up on him in the barracks after fights. His natural agility had saved his hide plenty of times.

Still, he'd never fallen into wei mo'wei-te.   
He'd heard of strong, honorable warriors who'd just given up at one point. Renounced all they were. Taken their own lives outside of a hunt and denied themselves a worthy afterlife.  
The concept was foreign to him, but he would not discount the effects of despair on a struggling psyche.

Uncertain, he reached out and placed a hand on the little ooman's bony shoulder. Comfort was also rarely expressed in his culture, but he had read that her kind required touch for a healthy existence. He would offer it, his debt required some form of payment and something in his own spirit urged him on as well.

The light touch had Fire Eyes flinch momentarily, there was saltwater streaming down her cooling, puffy cheeks when she lifted her head. She seemed as surprised as he was.  
His hand dwarfed her shoulder considerably, the smooth skin under his palm wet and colder than normal.

Fire Eyes snorted through her nose like the hound did when it was prancing and eager to play in its youth.  
"Who would have thought I'd be getting mental health advice from an alien…" she wobbled her head from side to side, mouth curving up at one corner.

His own tusks twitched in amusement. Did she not realize that here _she_ was the alien?  
Oomans were such a conceited race.

The mood turned sour again as her face regained its somber flatness, eyes downcast, fleshy lips thinning as the hairy brows scrunched in a frown.

"She… took something from me." 

Hul'gkan let a heavy breath out with his growl as he rose and aided Fire Eyes upright. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

<<I have… failed to protect you.>> it was not an easy thing for him to admit.

"The guy who looked us over…" she continued as though he hadn't spoken. "He said something about…"  
<<M'di lou'dte kalei-de.>> she parroted almost perfectly. It seemed she had learned much even without a teacher.  
He should have known she was clever enough to work things out on her own.

<<I... am sorry.>> the words left his mouth before he really thought them through.  
<<Your paths are reduced in this aspect, but grow in others.>> he hurried to offer, the uncomfortable itch of guilt pricking just under his throat.  
<<Do not let this undo you.>> Hul'gkan said, squeezing where he was still touching her, an unwelcome, desperate edge creeping in the undertones of his mournful hum. <<Your life still has - >>

"I _told_ you, I wasn't trying to -" she interrupted and wrenched away from him, swearing once again.

He remained silent, allowing her to form her own thoughts.

"I don't even _want_ kids. But that's not the _point_!" her voice rose in intensity as his fists curled at his sides.   
"What are _you_ even apologizing for? Unless its for fucking _abducting_ me then I don't want it!" her yell rang off the smooth walls.  
"You hunt me down like an animal, take me away from my own home, fucking step on me when you don't like something - then you abandon me with Doctor Death and you're sorry for what _she_ did?!" Fire Eyes continued to rant as she paced back and forth in front of him.

Hul'gkan had to willfully swallow down his bellow of rage. The debt he owed her was shrinking in importance with every second of restraint he imposed on himself. 

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you people, anyway!? Do you even realize how _fucked up_ you all are?"

He had to stay calm. He couldn't let himself be goaded by her tempestuous moods.

"You think you can just-"

<<Ki'dte!>> the command escaped him anyway and he relished in the acrid scent of fear and her inadvertent, instinctual retreat.

<<You were Prey and then a Trophy, now you are neither. Consider yourself fortunate I do not take your challenge!>>

The fire returned to her eyes as fury fueled her brittle body, small fists balling up, stance squaring. If she'd had tresses, the ones on her shoulders would have bristled in aggresion.

"Fuck you!" she spat back.

Hul'gkan responded by letting loose the roar he'd been stifling. To think he was comforting the ungrateful little wretch but a few breaths ago!

<<Ell-osde jehdin dtai'k-de!>> she screamed back the official challenge, baring her teeth. _This_ grimace was very clearly aggressive, nothing pleasant or happy about it.

Normally, Hul'gkan wouldn't have let himself be goaded by an unworthy or unskilled opponent, plenty of Unbloods still pestered him thinking he was younger or weaker. He couldn't very well beat them all, he didn't have that much free time - although he did put the particularly persistent ones in their place.  
There was little honor in taking challenges from those who weren't yet Blooded.

Yet, so encompassing was his rage at her that all his reservations shattered and his patience vanished like thin smoke in the wind.   
How _dare_ she scorn him so?! He would _not_ be judged by something that looked like Prey!

He leapt at the little ooman, bellowing his acceptance of her challenge as a mighty roar.

Despite her aparent weakness, Fire Eyes slipped from under his grasp with unexpected deftness, sliding along the wet floor on sure legs while his own injured one slipped, making him skid forward and overstep thus allowing Fire Eyes to get behind him and deliver a swift, if somewhat lacking in strength, kick to his back.

She laughed at his indignant grunt which only fueled his mounting fury.

Hul'gkan caught himself on the damp wall and pushed off, attempting to tackle the slippery little ape.  
She was a flame in the warm air, ablaze with her own anger.

Fire Eyes ducked and weaved under his swipe just as he had taught her more than a season ago. His mind was clear enough for a sliver of pride to slither in under the rage.

She side-stepped him again and kicked at the knee of his injured leg.   
It buckled under him so he dropped and swept her legs from under her.

He'd pressed her back enough with his swift recovery the she fell right into the pool with a huge splash despite her small form.  
Hul'gkan plunged in after her, his thwei now freely flowing from the reopened wounds, stinging his back.  
This time he wouldn't worry about throwing her into anything dangerous. He just had to be careful not to break her spine on the wall like when he was teaching her to spar.

He looked around for telltale signs of her resurfacing, mangled tresses slapping wetly against his shoulders and neck, throwing diluted droplets of blood around him in warm arcs.

Concern replaced his floundering rage when not even a bubble broke the surface.

Hul'gkan dove under, nictating membrane slipping over his eyes in preparation as he searched for the girl.

The temperature of the water made it impossible for him to discern any anomalies and nothing moved except for his own arms.  
The unfamiliar stirrings of panic tickled at the base of his skull.   
His mind argued that had she drowned, he would have surely seen signs of air leaving her body.  
But what if, in his cooling rage, he'd missed it?  
Could she be laying on the stone floor right now, lifeless and weighed down with the water that had choked her?

He should have never let himself be taunted into fighting. All his talk of a disciplined mind and he'd still acted like a riled pup. Only Fire Eyes had the unique talent of getting under his hide.

Hul'gkan resurfaced and waded through to the other side, standing on his toes at the deepest end of the pool.  
He pushed himself towards the stone edge to pull himself out and attempt to search for her again from above or, if nothing else, drain the water, but just as he gripped the smoothed edge, something grabbed his leg from below. He lost his grip and went crashing down, displacing even more water with his bigger body.

His nasty cuss was drowned out by water gushing down his throat so he clicked his mouth closed and pushed his tongue against his inner teeth to keep more from coming in.

By the time he got his footing again, the little ooman was already out of the water, throwing various bottles with oils and cleansing products at his head.

One hit him in the eye, just under the cauterized scar on his forehead. 

Resolving to beat her at her own game, he dived under the surface, keeping close to the bottom and making the distance to where she was with quick, powerful strokes.

He erupted from the pool right in front of little Fire Eyes and leapt to the edge, careful to keep his footing this time.  
She shrieked and kicked out at him but he was ready for her and caught her by the slim ankle.

Undeterred, she pushed on the captured limb, launching herself up, and hit him with the heel of her other foot right in the neck.

Good thing he was still wearing his guard, otherwise _he_ might have choked.  
The hit still hurt though and he growled, releasing her foot in favor of grabbing her around the waist with both hands.

Fire Eyes let loose a snarl of her own and clawed at his face while her legs scrambled uselessly in the air.  
He slammed her down just hard enough to hurt like he had done when she'd first defied him on Iktaha'rg's ship although in stead of getting stunned, she rolled away just before his foot came down to pin her.

She scampered up and Hul'gkan lunged after her, catching her around the shoulders from the back this time. Her little hands pushed at his forearms and she bit into the meat near the inside of his elbow, actually drawing thwei with her deceptively blunt teeth.  
He yowled and his temporarily crippled leg trembled under him and gave out when he tried to shift his weight, allowing Fire Eyes the perfect opportunity to push back into him and bend her torso forward, her lowered center of gravity affording her the necessary advantage to flip him over with a mighty heave.

He went crashing on his back, the wet slap of stone on his scars and the utter surprise at getting taken down momentarily stunning him into inaction as Fire Eyes brought her foot down hard on his chest, actually managing to drive the air out of him.

He blinked up at her as she panted above him, his warmer thwei trailing down the corners of her mouth and chin, her eyes two molten spots boring down on him like Paya herself.

Hul'gkan regained enough of his faculties to grab her around the calf and pull, tripping her up before she had the chance to deliver another hit.  
Fire Eyes fell and he curled himself up, a spike of excitement at another victorious dance shooting down his body, quickly moving over her to pin her down with one hand to her chest while the other reared up, fisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> u'darahje = abomination
> 
> sain'ja = warrior
> 
> Ic'jit = Badbloods
> 
> jehdin-jehdin = honorable hand-to-hand combat where opponents can show their skill without the prospect of certain death. The first to fall loses.  
> Some fights may still lead to mortal wounds or outright death.
> 
> wei mo'wei-te = depression/lowering spirit
> 
> m'di = no
> 
> lou'dte kalei = child-bearer (also used as an insult)
> 
> ki'dte = enough
> 
> Ell-osde jehdin dtai'k-de = [ I ] challenge you to an individual fight/one-on-one
> 
> thwei = blood
> 
> Paya = goddes of life, fire, health and fertility
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> I kinda feel guilty for leaving you on a cliffhange, and I also kinda don't mwahahahaha!
> 
> I'm not sure if the whole Culling thing is official but considering how the yoots treat their disabled as slaves and dabble in genetic modification to become stronger, I figured they'd have a pretty severe outlook on young that don't fit what popular view deems appropriate.
> 
> So yeah, now we know what happened to Allison.  
> I don't like the "she's boken cause she can't have kids" trope. It's a terrible real-life problem (which I can personally say depends on what the person suffering from various afflictions wants from their life), but in media it's always used like the end-all of punishements, wether the screenwiters/producers (usually straight cis men) deem it as just or unjust for whatever 'crimes' the woman of the story commited.  
> Or a pre-existing condition that justifies her actions.  
> Or the 'reason' the character is evil.
> 
> And it's always assumed this is something that the female character in question desperately wants.
> 
> There is life and worth beyond the ability to produce other people. (which we'll visit again later in the fic, ha)  
> What actually fucked Allie up isn't what was taken from her, but all the shit she's gone through.   
> (As Invisible206 said - the lack of choice)
> 
> Hulk's been raised in a society that values reproduction as worth along with hunting prowess.
> 
> So, she finally snapped for real, gave Hulk a good run for his money although he got her in the end, even while weakened considerably.
> 
> Whatever will happen next?!
> 
> See you next friday!


	14. No good deed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Work got busy on me and I had no time/motivation/inspiration to write. I have most of the stuff I want to happen planned out already but y'kno, it's a long way from ideas to a solid chapter.

_This is it_. she thought as Hulk's massive form loomed above her, his shadow enveloping her completely.  
There was an odd sense of regret that had it happened sooner - had she _let it_ happen - she might have been spared all the suffering after she took that plunge in the waterfall.

Hulk's fist reared back, back - high over her like a hammer waiting to fall.   
Adrenaline-fueled, her brain focused on each detail making the motion seem slowed down to a snail's pace.

In her hyperaware state, she could see all the little scale-like segments over his knuckles and fingers stand out, darker in pigmentation than the skin under them and slightly translucent in the warm light of evening.   
Figures his kind had the equivalent of brass knuckles already built in. 

She closed her eyes as the fist started it's downward swing, waiting for the inevitable.  
At least she'd gone down fighting, that spiteful little part of her said.   
At least she hadn't begged.   
At least it would be over fast.

_But I don't want to die!_

The fist connected to the stone near her right ear with a loud crack. Might have even sent a few shards flying.

She squinted one eye open while the other remained closed, peeking up at Hulk's heaving form above her.  
The petty satisfaction she took from actually winding him was minute compared to the elation of survival.

Her other eye opened and she waited with bated breath as Hulk's jade gaze bore down on her.   
Even now, she refused to look away. If he'd wanted her dead, she would be. Meekness would achieve nothing.

Hulk harrumphed at her and wheezed out his stupid, deep laugh, bending down over her even more on the fist firmly planted next to her face but not applying any more pressure on her chest with the large hand splayed just under her neck. He could easily crush her sternum or choke her out if he wanted to.

Her breath went out all at once and she gulped, uncaring of the alien blood in her mouth as those wicked tusks clicked above her, way too close for comfort.   
She'd brought her legs up during the fight to push at him but now one hung limply - thigh over his hip with the sole of her foot flat on his muscular calf, the other curled up with her knee poking into his ribs.  
Her arms were similarly useless, one braced beside her body, hand almost touching his knee while the other had somehow ended up above her head.

His skin was fever-hot and slick where they touched, both of them still wet from flailing about in the pool.

The position was uncomfortably intimate with him basically kneeling and bending over her between her legs. It provoked an undesired surge of _heat_ to travel up from behind her navel all the way to her cheeks.

<<Worthy fight.>> he rumbled, twitching his mandibles in what she'd come to recognize as a hunter alien smile.  
<<Never do that again.>> he admonished next. <<Others will not miss.>>

Then he babbled something more but she only caught bits and pieces of it. Something about waiting for 'blood' or 'blooding' and winning a trophy of some kind.  
She had no plans to ever challenge him like that again anyway, she'd come close enough to death to realize she really, really didn't want to die, no matter how fucked up she felt.

Finally, he backed off her and grunted himself upright, using the hand that had been pinning her down to push himself up on his bent knee.

She skittered back on her hands to give herself more space and spat faintly green saliva to the side.

Allison watched as Hulk limped to the pool to fiddle with the settings panel and wash his reopened wounds, furiously wiping at her mouth while he grumbled and splashed blueish water over his shoulder.   
The taste of his blood was bitter and salty, though thankfully it didn't smell too much. She was already close to gagging.

"Why did you let me live?" she asked in morbid curiosity.

She repeated the question in his tongue when he only harrumphed at her again.

<<Respect. Debt. Worthy.>> he listed at last.

He'd mentioned 'worthy' before, she assumed it meant the weird fuck had enjoyed the fight. The respect was new but it couldn't hurt, she'd have to ask about it later.  
One aspect though, caught her attention.

<< _Debt_?>>

Hulk grunted as he climbed out of the pool, his wounds still bled but not as strongly, she noticed the water was sluicing off him in vaguely gelatinous, thin globs.

<<Sei-i...>> he sounded hesitant as he passed her to wave open a cabinet and proceed to apply the healing gel on his wounds, hissing as he struggled to reach behind him.

After a few undignified grunts, he gave up trying to be delicate and just dumped the whole canister over his shoulder, letting the gel slide down and catching some of the excess at the small of his back to dab at the punctures in his calf and thigh.

Allison used the pause to think. Could she possibly utilize this to her advantage?

<<What meaning _debt_?>> she asked cautiously while poking at the slashes in the thermal mesh. Hulk must have really been holding back, she was barely scratched but the mesh was hanging off in pieces.

<<It means I owe you a favor, stupid ooman.>> he grumped as he turned away from her to exit the huge bathroom.

She followed him out with an indignant scoff.

<<What happen _respect_? Name 'stupid human' not!>>

He jerked to a sudden stop and turned to face her, dreads swinging wildly. Allie barely had time to avoid bumping into him.

She frowned at his angry growl. Refusing to back down. She'd milk this opportunity as much as she could.

"Allison." she said and looked at him expectantly, hands planted on her hips.  
Hulk clicked and looked away, mouthing something that sounded suspiciously obscene.  
<<Say.>> she demanded.

Living jade looked down at her as he stilled.  
<<...Ahh-lee-zzzhnn…>> he grumbled finally. It barely sounded like her name, but it was a start.

"'Allie' is fine too." she allowed, softening a little now that he was actually trying. If his language was so difficult for her to learn, hers must be just as hard for him to spell out. He didn't exactly have the right facial features.  
She wondered how Gramps managed so well, maybe he'd had more experience. Hulk was recognizably young compared to others she had seen.

<<Ah-lee.>> he nodded, sounding surer of himself, voice carrying a deep purry undertone. It was a little weird hearing him say her name like that. Maybe she shouldn't have insisted on it so much.  
<<Fire Eyes.>> he added.

"That's what Gramps called me. Why do you use it?"

<<Grr-ahks?>>

"Uh, the funny guy. Older. From the ship."

<<Iktaha'rg.>> he provided.

"Right." 

Hulk didn't deign to answer her previous question so they just continued staring at each other in awkward silence. Him completely still, studying her in that unnecessarily intense way of his and Allison wringing her hands together, trying to think of something else to say to break the silence.

"Hey, so… what happened to Spike?" she brightened, realizing she really missed the great slobbery beast.   
"The dog." she clarified at Hulk's quizzical head tilt.

He clicked and gestured for her to follow, turning towards the kitchen and opening what appeared to be a back door with a wave of his hand.

The dusky light of perpetual evening lit the surroundings in amber as Allison stepped out into the jungle, careful to stay close to Hulk and follow him on the narrow trail of beaten down, hard-packed dirt.

She hid behind him at the sound of four-legged galloping heading right towards them, poking her head out at his elbow to watch the creature skid through the underbrush.

\----------

Little Ah-lee was as cautious as ever, positioning herself out of the path of possible danger behind him.  
The area was protected from the jungle by a domed force-field and was safe even for the youngest of pups to play in but he refrained from mentioning it, enjoying her immediate change of mood towards him at the mere hint of outside threat.

How could a being that would challenge him so brazenly become so easily frightened in so little time? She was truly a mystery.  
Still, her proximity brought a repeat of the unexplained wave of satisfaction from earlier, when he'd been leaning over her after the match. He'd thought it only a natural reaction to achieving victory at first.

The hound had heard his clicks of summons and rushed towards him from whatever nest it had made for itself while resting in the kennel.   
Hul'gkan had taken it out on a few hunts together with Thei'dteinou before the whole mess with Fire Eyes. It had earned some rest and the automated feeding station attached to the house had kept it well-fed while Hul'gkan had been away.

The hound slipped on a wet patch of ground in its eagerness to rejoin its master, whining subvocally once it was within sight.

Ah-lee shrieked in joy and called out to the hound who was prancing from side to side, just as delighted as her but still waiting for permission to approach.

Hul'gkan chittered a sit and stay command as little Fire Eyes darted right up to his hound and started vigurosly petting it. Unable to resist the extra attention, the hound flopped on its back to present her with its belly in an unflattering show of submission.

It should not be recognizing her as an authority figure and Hul'gkan should have admonished it for the error, but Ah-lee's obvious enjoyment of the act made him pause.  
It would hurt no one to let her have this moment. 

It was… pleasant… to see her so happy. Especially after the strange display of grief. He found her moroseness _utterly_ displeasing.

Hul'gkan had never thought it possible for the little thing to actually mange to pin him down, even if only temporarily.  
Despite his weakened state, he was more than a match for Unbloods, let alone oomans.   
Ah-lee had proven to be unexpectedly strong - stronger than she used to be, however frail-looking.   
Whatever had been done to her had truly changed her.

He prayed Vay'n'ritja had made it through. He needed answers. Not just for himself, but his Debt demanded he treat the matter immediately now that he was mostly healed   
He hadn't liked admitting his failings to Fire Eyes, but he would have to own up to it eventually.   
_Definitely_ hadn't liked the spark of shrewdness in her eyes at the prospect of his owing her either.

When it came to sniffing out weakness, little Ah-lee was like a hound with a bone. She'd dig at it untill she got whatever her devious little mind decided it wanted.

Hul'gkan shook his head to dispel the negative thoughts. It was her right, he would have to honor her wishes as long as they were within his power.

He approached the pair, his hound deciding to toady up to his true master now, still wiggling its behind embarasingly.  
In stead of the correct reprimand, Hul'gkan's hand reached down of its own accord and rubbed at the hound's bulbous head to the absolute delight of both his pet and former Trophy.

"Awww, you _do_ love him." Fire Eyes crooned, mouth stretched in that toothy ooman smile. How strange that her kind could mean so many different things by showing teeth.  
" _Who's_ a good boy? _You_ are! Yes you _are_! Such a _good_ boy..." she continued mouthing nonsense at the hound.  
Predictably, it wiggled in the dirt like a worm, seeking as much attention as possible - causing Fire Eyes to erupt in even more laughter, this time without the threat of tears just under the surface.

While he was pleased her spirits had improved, he did not understand how the hound could shift her perspective so completely.

An irritating itch sparked deep in his chest.  
How could she look at a mere animal with such fondness and genuine mirth, yet only show its master absolute disdain? 

He'd even defeteat her fairly and let her live despite her arrogance (and not only because of his Debt, which should really be considered payed in part by the act of sparing her).

Deciding this was enough spoiling for one day, he got up and whistled for the hound to retreat.  
It rose to its feet with a whine and a quick shake and finally ran back into its small stretch of jungle.

"Now why did you do that…" Fire Eyes pouted at knee-height, crossing her arms at the loss of adoring hound.

<<You will drive all the discipline out of my pet if I let you.>> he rumbled.

"Oh don't preach to me about 'discipline', who's the guy who got riled up into a hissy fit like five minutes ago?" 

Hypocrisy was not a trait he liked seeing, least of all in himself.

He kept her in his peripherals as she rose and dusted the dirt off her knees.

"Now what was this about you owing me one?" she asked after insistently challenging him with direct eye contact he refused to acknowledge.

<<H'chak.>> he growled, finally meeting her gaze.

<<For sparing me a dishonorable death and showing mercy, I must pay you back. The choice is between killing you and then myself or offering you a reward that is within my power to give.>> he recited the simplified rule in a way she would understand.  
<<I _assumed_ you would choose the latter.>> he leered.

There was a hint of acrid fear-sweat in the air but considerably less than he'd come to expect from her. Fire Eyes really _had_ changed.

"If you'd killed me just now… would you have been uh, honor bound to kill yourself too?" she asked, perceptive as always.

<<Sei-i.>>

The little thing huffed at him and muttered various curses. 

"So this is good for you too, huh. Of _course_ , when _isn't_ it?"

Hul'gkan willfully leashed the spike of renewed anger. It wouldn't be honorable for _him_ to issue a challenge.

"Fine. I know how you can pay me back." she said, crossing her spindly arms and mirroring his posture, although hers was hardly as intimidating.

<<Name you price, oom… Ah-lee.>> he corrected himself just in time.

Fire Eyes still squinted at him as though he'd slighted her.  
"Take me back home and let me go unharmed." 

Hul'gkan rumbled a laugh and spat back a short <<H'ko.>>.

"You said…"

<<It is not within _my_ power to give.>> his tresses shifted as his head shook from side to side in denial.

"Then what fucking good are you?!" Fire Eyes demanded and stomped past him towards the open doorway.

The shock of her audacity wore off once she was a few steps ahead of him and he roared.  
Ah-lee turned to face him, rearing up for another fight.

<<Insolent little - >>  
His accusation was interrupted by the loud, incessant beeping of his computer gauntlet. It was a priority alert that would have routed to his mask had he been wearing it on a hunt, otherwise it was set to attract attention when he was awake.

Fuming, he accepted the call and rumbled an impatient <<What.>> before the caller's projection appeared.

Iktaha'rg mottled face showed even more damaged on the imprecise, harsh heat-mapping of the projection. He was uncharacteristically anxious, grinding his tusks together.

<<Finally, I have been attempting to contact you since first sun.>>   
Hul'gkan bristled in anticipation, he had never heard his teacher sound so worried.  
<<I don't know when, but a team of Arbitrators will be dispatched to collect you and your Trophy - >>

<<She is no lon - >>

<< _Listen_ , Youngblood. Time is not on your side. You must ready yourself. Do not let your temper get the better of you, be calm and follow their instruct - >>

Iktaha'rg clicked his mouth shut as a loud bang sounded at Hul'gkan's front door. He gave his former student one last long look before cutting off the connection.  
Fire Eyes had drifted closer to him as she too had listened to Iktaha'rg's harried speech and closer still when the loud noise spooked her.

Her seeking his protection again after just insulting him would have been amusing under normal circumstances, perhaps even gratifying. Right now it only served to heighten his instinctual reaction towards the invasion of his territory. A need to protect unlike any before rose to the forefront of his senses.

Hul'gkan growled and marched to his entrance, Ah-lee following close on his heels despite her obvious fright.

The bang sounded again, angrier this time.

Hul'gkan took a deep breath.

<<Stay back. Say nothing.>> he instructed and pushed Fire Eyes behind him.

Blessedly obedient or possibly just aware of the danger, she nodded and did as he commanded, hiding further away behind one of the dwellings' structural pillars.

Hul'gkan input the unlock sequence and waved it over, the biometric scanner on the outside showed four yaut'ja on the other side. He calmed his breathing and faced the larger men.

The Arbitrator was the first to step in, without Hul'gkan's permission or even the customary greeting, followed by three of his acolytes.

<<Young... Hunter, you are summoned before the Council of Ancients. Follow.>> the Arbitrator ordered, the angry thrum in his chest betraying his dislike of being relegated to fetching duties.  
Normally, Arbitrators were sent out offworld, to correct mistakes, hunt Badbloods or bring justice upon corrupt Clans. They answered only to the Council of Ancients but had little jurisdiction on Prime... unless there was an Ic'jit on the run...

The Matriarchs or Clan Leaders and the Elders were mostly independent and responsible of enforcing the laws locally, along with the Honor Code itself, in every Clan separately. Not that there was much to do, usually the weak or dishonorable weeded themselves out, either perishing or becoming Ic'jit while on hunts.

Each Clan had its own understanding of the rules, but they were similar enough that the yaut'ja living on the planet could coexist.   
His kind had not known civil war for aeons. A blessing both for their species as a whole and the entire settled Universe.

There were plenty tales of old, legends now, that depicted just how devastating even mere skirmishes between different Clans could be for several Galaxies, still lifeless husks to this day.   
Entire civilizations demolished, planets turned to dust, billions of prey species gone extinct and whole Clans that lived on in ancient teachings only if they had acted honorably or struck from all public records if corrupt.  
It was the reason the Code had been implemented and it had yet to fail them.

Hul'gkan allowed himself one last look behind him, but Fire Eyes had melted into the background.   
He hoped she would stay safely in the house until his return.  
He hoped he _would_ return.

Not many encountered an Arbitrator on business and lived to tell the tale.   
Moreover, those who had dealings with the Council were either very important and influential individuals, or criminals of such noticeable dishonor that deserved special judgement.

It did not bode well for him that he was called before the governing body by one of its enforcers.

Still, Hul'gkan was confident in one thing if nothing else.  
He had acted _honorably_. 

He would trust that his following of the Code would see him through whatever dire business had Iktaha'rg so concerned.

\----------

The flight to the Pyramid of Judgement was slow and silent.

The Council of the Ancients resided in the oldest structure still standing on the planet.

Innumerable spans ago, when Prime's orbit and axis were different, there used to be settlements all over its surface.  
A few billion spans before the first recorded skirmish between the three major Clans at the time, the planet's core started cooling.  
Historians believe that it eventually led to rapid technological advancement in order to break free from the trappings of gravity and a singular habitable planet.  
The yaut'ja took to the great nothingness and found other viable systems, many still populated with more secular Clans even now.

Prime would later be moved closer to its two suns and have its axis modified so that the new orbit would be stable.  
The shift made it a hostile place, where only the truly skilled resided around the ecuator. Fights over teritory were as common as the volcanoes erupting all over the old continents once the core heated up again.

It would eventullay settle down into it's current state, but few traces of their old civilization remained outside of the equatorial ring of life and the few scattered and crumbling pyramids of old.

The Desert Clan the abomination and Vay'n'ritja came from resided in one such ruin. An old spaceport, repaired and cared for by its inhabitants, even though it was halfway buried beneath sand.

The Ancients resided in the oldest intact pyramid at the new North pole of Prime. Some believed that the orientation was specifically chosen so the Pyramid of Judgement would survive.   
It was also the place where most of the knowledge of the past was protected.   
The Ancients were its keepers, having earned the honor by leading an exemplary life and surviving their last hunt as well as defeating other candidates in fierce competition.  
With age, experience and honor beyond what most yaut'ja could ever dream of came the power and responsibility to govern most of the Clans and provide guidance to their leaders and keep the old traditions alive.

There were lost Clans that rejected their sovereignty. But those were few and tended to mind their own planets or migrant fleets. No real threat to the large conglomerate of Clans who had sworn allegiance to the Council.

The ship flew high up over the roiling magma rivers of the Wastes, midway through the mesosphere to spare the fuselage from potentially being damaged by the rapidly varying temperatures and heavy air composites below.

The smoke was forecast to clear in several more million spans.

  
Hul'gkan sat in the same formation as when he'd been led to the private spaceport of the enforcers. One acolyte was always behind him, two at his sides and the Arbitrator in front, in the pilot seat.

The fact that he was neither locked up in one of the sleeping chambers, frozen in a cryo-pod and/or beaten to a pulp meant he was not suspect of any great wrongdoing.

Yet he was still watched from all sides and closely guarded.

He did not like the feeling of mistrust in the air and struggled to keep himself silent and patient before such doubt and insult, just as Iktaha'rg had instructed.

While the old man could be trusted to always pull pranks whenever the opportunity presented itself, he did not make light of such serious matters.   
Hul'gkan cursed himself for the long slumber, however vital and rejuvenating it had been. He had missed whatever information Iktaha'rg had been attempting to impart on him.

He should never have allowed himself to become so preoccupied with the girl.   
There was no way for him to send for anyone to check on her while under constant surveillance either. 

He needed to stay focused. Concern for the ooman had been plagueing his thoughts since he'd locked the gate to his temporary dwelling behind him. _She_ was not the one being brought in front of the Council.

Hul'gkan stared stoically ahead, doing his best to banish all distractions from his mind and center himself. He could not meditate while surrounded by possible foes, but he could channel his anxiety, sharpen his wit in preparation for what was ahead.

He did not like facing a challenge completely blind. But the matter was out of his hands.

The vessel vibrated as it descended. Hul'gkan remained seated, his flight bindings disengaging last, until the Arbitrator and his acolytes rose and he was instructed to follow.

The usual formation was disrupted only by walking single file down the circular hall of the ship to the aft airlock.  
Outside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of ash.

Two other yaut'ja waited for them beyond the landing pad, dressed in elaborate armor and masks with ornately carved staves and short daggers hilted at their sides.

No one was allowed to bring weapons into the Ancient Pyramid, not even the Council members, except for Cetanu's Honor Guard who wore the ceremonial awu-asa, plain staff and decorated daggers that hadn't changed in design for millennia. 

The Honor Guard was made up of a variety of devout young Elites selected from the various Allied Clans. The terms of selection were secret but generally thought to be the responsibility of the respective Clan's Matriarch or Leader.

Hul'gkan had only ever heard second-hand whispers of Council meetings that involved common sain'ja that weren't brought in for judgement, usually those were accomplished warriors whose actions benefitted the race in some way, not newly Blooded like himself.

  
Hul'gkan was kept behind by an acolyte's hand over his chest while the Arbitrator advanced far enough to meet the more senior member of the Guard and not be heard exchanging heated low growls with the shorter man. 

The acolytes were tense in front and beside him, incensed at their Arbitrator being silenced by the Honor Guard Leader.

He clicked his tusks but said nothing as the procession split off, the acolytes were ordered to remain with the ship, much to their chagrin, and he followed as the two Guards escorted both him and the Arbitrator down a long hallway leading into the pyramid, then took several turns he kept careful count of, climbed a grand set of stairs and was pushed forward in front of a high, arched stone doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex
> 
> sei-i = yes
> 
> h'chack = mercy
> 
> h'ko = no
> 
> ic'jit = badblood
> 
> awu-asa = armor
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N  
> Most of the stuff about yau'ja civil wars is made up, I think I read somewhere that due to the way the Clans are made up, civil war doesn't happen (maybe just skirmishes between separate Clans) but I figure they must have had a horrid past too, and politics are everywhere.
> 
> I also made up everything about the Council, the Pyramid of Judgement and the planet. Kind of wanted to flesh out the (very meager) bits of information we do have. Hope it makes sense.
> 
> And you know that meme with "Ah, yes. Me, my girlfiend and her [big thing]"?  
> That's gonna be Hulk, Allison and Spike eventually.
> 
> Hulk, his girlfriend and his 220 pound Hellhound.


	15. Ties that bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay, hope you like the guest appearance!
> 
> Between work, the heat and personal stuff, there's been little time to actually sit down and write or draw.  
> Hope stuff will chill out soon so I can get back to my regular schedule.

Allison absentmidendly scratched behind Spike's jaw while staring out into the little piece of jungle they were both stuck in.

After Hulk had been taken away, she'd kept herself hidden until reasonably certain no one would come back for her.

Eventually she'd gotten bored waiting and ventured out the still open backdoor seeking the frog-dog and to explore her surroundings.  
Spike was more than happy to keep her company while she petted him.

She'd worried at the little strips of dried skin on her lower lip, only forcing herself to stop after tasting blood.

Spike whined beneath her hand and wiggled closer. Her anxiety was putting him on edge too.

She'd already mapped out her new cage.   
The dog had a hidey-hole he'd showed her and had walked a path around the back yard's perimeter - an egg-shaped dome that shimmered faintly and spread out in ripples where she touched it.  
It went far up into the canopy and, from what she could see after scraping around with a flat piece of stone, it also dug into the ground.

At least it would keep her safe from any wild animals.

Her stomach rumbled again, louder this time, quieting Spike's whines as the hound tilted his big head sideways.  
He squiggled out and almost tipped her over, yapping his maw wetly over her muffled curse and shaking himself like a giant, scaly dog.

"Ugh, you got spit all over me." she groaned and wiped her hands on her thighs, only smearing the slobber in the dirt left over from her exploratory pursuits.  
She used to care more about getting grungy back home. Now the feeling of dirt on her skin was almost pleasant. Definitely better than the sterile air at the pyramid or the recycled stuff on the ship, no matter how clean or safe it was.

Spike made his guttural barking noise and ran towards the house then back at her, obviously wanting her to follow.

"Fine, let's do it your way." she huffed and went after the endlessly energetic alien hound.

Spike led her to a metallic contraption off the side of the house, near the back door. She was pretty sure the small kitchen was on the other side.

The thing beeped and she could hear faint mechanical whirring behind it. Then a shoot opened an a large, pale hunk of meat dropped, still thawing.  
Spike turned to look at her, almost expectantly. 

"Aww, thanks bud, but I can get my own. Not a big fan of raw meat, you know."

The hound watched her head back in and she soon heard him crunching away at his meal while she rummaged for fruits.   
Most of the fresh stuff was gone. There were some things that looked a lot like really big and wrinklier walnuts that she could eat, but there was no fire pit for her to cook any meat.

Looking at her little patch of jungle gave her an idea. There would certainly be dried sticks somewhere out there and she was fairly certain she could start a fire without matches, a lighter or Hulk's nifty tools. Her short stint as a Girl Guide hadn't covered this part but she'd seen it done a couple of times.

She'd make her old troop leader proud.

\----------

Thei'dteinou led a good, worthy life.   
He may not have been the smartest, or most skilled fighter of his generation, but he was honorable and fair. A good hunter with plenty of Trophies and even a couple of pups to his name.

No student of Elder Iktaha'rg was ever _mediocre_.  
He may not have been the Elder's first honored student, or even the second or third, but he had learned all he needed to know to pass his chiva and many hunts and challenges after it.  
His sheer size was also an advantage in fights and mating dances as well.

He'd had a fairly bad start in life, with his bearer killed while he was still young in a gruesome hunting accident and his education mainly coming from his older relatives with children of their own.

Elder Iktaha'rg's acceptance into his select training programme had been a rare stroke of luck.

It was where he had met and befriended Hul'gkan and several other Unbloods.

Except for the incident during the Quatza-Rij hunt and the unfortunate delay of Hul'gkan's chiva, which had put a strain on both young men, the two were the closest thing each other had to a brother.

Thei'dteinou only had two much older sisters and a many older brothers. None had been part of his life except for his eldest sister who had taken responsibility for him for a short while after his bearer had perished. As soon as he was old enough to train with a master, she had returned her full attention to her own children. He was grateful to her, but held no lasting attachments.  
As far as he knew, Hul'gkan kept contact with no other relatives except for his own bearer.

He could still remember the day the two had met. In what Thei'dteinou would later come to find was usual fashion for Hul'gkan, the smaller boy had been in the middle of an unbalanced fight with two other Unbloods, and holding his own respectably well.  
Thei'dteinou had watched in surprise at first and only intervened when a third had joined the fray, striking Hul'gkan stealthily from behind, not even revealing himself beforehand.

 _Not_ evening the odds would have been dishonorable.

Hul'gkan had cussed him out for 'restricting' his fight but the two had become fast friends and training partners afterwards.

Thei'dteinou would do just about anything for his hunt-brother and he knew the sentiment was mutual.   
He would have liked to have gone on their chiva together, as he'd expected, but the Elders in charge of organizing trials had decided against it.  
He still owed his brother for the Quatza-Rij, although his mei'hswei had been adamant about there being no debt among true brothers.

Hul'gkan wasn't the type to make contact first. Be it hunts or a night out drinking or even when something was bothering him like when Thei'dteinou had seen him last.   
It was generally up to the the larger man to forward an invitation.

Receiving a message from his mei'shwei, text only and misspelled in places as though sent in a hurry, after days of no replies to Thei'dteinou's past summons, had come as a surprise.   
He'd sounded harried, going so far as to plead for a favor.  
While his friend was normally quiet, he was never timid. 

So, it was with some trepidation and pride that Thei'dteinou made his way towards his brother's temporary dwelling. The access code had been sent along with the message.

The place was quiet when he went in. No trace of the little ooman he was supposed to retrieve and stow away somewhere safe or the old hound he knew was kept here.

He stopped at the entrance and trilled in summons to the ooman.   
It wasn't that odd when nothing responded, while he was certain Hul'gkan had taught his pet well beyond basic commands, it was likely the ooman was trained to avoid other yaut'ja. It might very well interpret his presence here as an intrusion.

Thei'dteinou scented the air in hopes of scent leading him to the ooman - there was a faint trace of it, although it felt strange, together with the hound's subtle musk and... was that smoke?

Alarmed, the young sain'ja ran into the dwelling, following the scent of smoke into the kennel at the back of the house.

No wonder Hul'gkan was so anxious about his pet, he'd always griped about being unable to leave it unsupervised on the journey home, the damned thing had started a fire in an enclosed space!

\----------

The mouthwatering scent or roasted meat already had her stomach growling.  
She'd finally managed to get a fire started in the small pit she'd dug and surrounded with stones on a clear bit of ground near the backdoor.

She couldn't wait to sink her teeth into the weird pale slab of meat. It didn't even need to be well done, she was so hungry she'd eat it rare, it already smelled delicious.

Just as she was blowing on a juicy piece, she heard heavy footsteps stomping down the stone floor in the kitchen.  
Strange, Hulk didn't usually walk so heavily.

She turned her head just in time to see a giant lumbering, rusty hued form clamber through the narrow doorway.  
That was _definitely_ _not_ Hulk.

A scream left her and she dropped her food, bolting for the small patch of jungle as she heard Spike's guttural barks reacting to her noise of distress and rushing at the large figure.

She hoped the hound wouldn't be hurt buying her time to hide and muttered a quick sorry at the sound of muffled alien curses and frog-dog's yelp.

Allison jumped over fallen trees and large stones, hurrying to Spike's hidden bolthole while trying not to leave too many tracks, hoping the hound's stronger scent would throw whoever hunted her off her trail, at least for a little while.  
Maybe she'd be able to wait it out until Hulk returned, her chances of outmaneuvering the giant in a fight by herself were slim to none. She hadn't even been able to defeat a seriously wounded one and held no illusions about getting stomped by other hunter aliens. 

A frustrated roar bellowed behind her and she almost ate mud, managing to turn her fall into a roll at the last moment and getting covered head-to-toe in muck in the process.

He was close, she had to hurry!

\----------

He slammed the agitated hound down, reluctant to harm it but forced to defend himself, cussing up a storm to scare some sense back into the desperate animal.

<<Easy, loyal one. You _know_ me.>> he rumbled, hoping to appease the beast. He did not wish to slay his brother's hound while retrieving the other pet. It was a worthy hunter itself.

The hound growled but stopped struggling once it had a recognized his scent and voice, whining lowly in submission.

<<At ease.>> he ordered as Hul'gkan often did when ending a hunt.   
He'd come prepared and chained the hound to a nearby, sturdy trunk so it wouldn't interfere.

Huffing in relief, he looked around for the ooman, half-expecting an attack from it as well. Hul'gkan had boasted he would teach it how to hunt and fight to make it into the best training tool.   
He doubted it could seriously injure him just yet but knowing Hul'gkan, it had probably learned some nasty tricks at least.

When nothing came at him and his mask only showed fading footprints leading further into the kennel, Thei'dteinou roared hoping to spook it into reacting and started chasing after the tracks.

He would not be embarrassed in front of his brother by some ooman pet.

\----------

Allison trembled where she was rolled up, as deep as Spike's hole in the ground allowed her to go, trying to keep still and quiet as she shivered.  
The mud was cold on her and little roots poked her shoulder and back.

Spike's nest was dug under and gigantic old tree between its massive roots and was about five feet deep.  
She'd covered the entrance by pulling on some fern-like leaves that grew near it, careful not to break them, hoping it would be enough to hide her.

 _Poor Spike_. she thought, sniffling and wincing at the loud sound. She hoped he hadn't been killed by the giant red thing.

A memory nagged at the back of her mind, something about the figure was familiar. She was too scared and cautious to go get a second look though.

A thump shook the earth above her head and she squeezed her eyes shut, keeping as quiet as a mouse. Had he jumped in the old tree?

The roots shifted and the earth above her vibrated as though someone really big was scaling the tree, eventually fading away to nothing but the beating of her own frenzied heartbeat pumping in her eardrums.

It was at that moment that her stomach decided to complain the lack of food - _very_ loudly, even echoing in the cone-shaped hole.

"Fuck." Allison whispered and clutched both arms over her abdomen. Not now!

She waited with bated breath, willing her body to stop making unnecessary noises.

After a few minutes of silence, she sighed in relief, hunkering down flat on her belly on the cool dirt. If her stomach decided to rumble again, the earth might muffle it more the second time. She'd just have to deal with the cold. She hadn't expected such a dramatic difference of temperature. Her mesh was mostly ripped up from the fight with Hulk too, damn him.

She heard Spike's mournful howls in the distance. What if he was hurt? 

_No_ , she would not be captured again!   
It pained her to leave him, but she had to stay hidden.  
To wait.

To hope rescue would come and be capable of defeating a way bigger foe.

As she stretched her arms out to get in a more comfortable position, a large hand darted in and grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her out so suddenly she barely registered the drag of roots and little stones tearing the skin of her chest, abdomen and the front of her thighs.

Allison was lifted high in the air, dangling by an arm in front of a massive pewter mask, distinctly unlike Hulk's.  
The red guy started to rumble a laugh at her, only to cough when she planted both feet firmly in his sternum.

  
The rusty hunter's arm lowered as he bent over from her kick. Allison pulled as soon as she was back on solid ground but his hold was iron. She'd swear she could feel her bones creaking under his punishing grip.

Hulk had never grabbed her so hard.

She screamed and clawed at his scaly hand, pain making her kneel in the dirt.

<<Cease!>> the beast demanded in a deep gravelly voice. <<I was sent by your n'yaka-de.>>

"What..." she managed to squeak, refusing to give into the sobs bubbling up her throat.

The big hunter only growled.

<<L-let _go_.>> she grit her teeth and growled back, frowning up into his severe mask. 

The hunter's head snaked back in surprise, his grip slackened but didn't release.

<<If you run, I _will_ chase you down again.>> he warned. <<And I will not be so _careful_ a second time...>>

She nodded and his big hand finally peeled away, mud and all, off her aching flesh. There was a ugly indentation of his palm where he'd gripped her, skin already starting to bruise.

Allison cradled her arm to her chest, tentatively rotating her wrist and holding back the whine of pain. It didn't seem broken at least.

<<Come, we must go.>> he huffed. He was so _big_. Almost as tall as Snake-lady and wider across the shoulders and chest.

Suddenly, she remembered where she'd seen him.   
Landing on this cursed planed seemed so long ago. But she was sure, even though she couldn't see his face and those beady red eyes of his - this was the one Hulk had called 'brother'.

<<You are...>> she struggled to remember if she'd ever hear his name.

<<Thei'dteinou. And you are Hul'gkan's little Fire Eyes.>> he said with an amused rumble.   
<<You are even more troublesome than he claims.>> Big Red muttered while scratching at his chin beneath the mask.

<<Hulk where?>>

It took Big Red only a moment to figure out her nickname for his brother and he shook his head, crossing his ridiculously buff arms over his equally ridiculously buff chest.

<<I do not know. He has asked me to retrieve you. Now come, we must go.>> he ordered with finality and made to grab Allison by the other arm.

She slipped away and put her palms up when he growled in warning.

<<Walk can me.>>

Big Red snuffed but led the way back to the house, checking over his shoulder every now and then to be certain she followed, obviously distrustful.

She was relieved to see the hound was alive and unharmed once they exited the small patch of jungle, sitting with his big head on his front paws and whining once she got close.

"Wait, what about Spike?" she asked and pointed at the frog-dog.

Big Red tilted his head at her and all three beings paused as he considered.  
<<I was only sent for you.>>

"You can't just leave him tied to a tree... " she tried to reason.

There was another pause as Big Red considered once more.

"I promise I'll behave if you take him with us."

After a beat he rumbled that dopey clicking laugh she associated with full-on chuckles. <<You will come either way. But Hul'gkan may have need of his hound as well...>>

She wondered why he kept answering her with delays, he didn't have any problems talking to her when she growled, clicked and hissed.

Big Red thumped his way across from her, put out her fire with a few kicks of sand, ruining her dinner as well, and untied Spike from the tree.  
  
She'd sacrifice her food for Spike any day, she still felt guilty about abandoning him like that.

Her curiosity and the fact that she was reasonably assured Hulk's bro wouldn't kill her, prompted her to voice her thoughts. 

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but..." Allie gulped hoping this wouldn't offend the giant wall of killer alien. "why does it take you so long to answer?"

This time she counted the seconds untill his surprise registered in his body language, head tracking back to stare at her through his eye-plates.

<<Our bio-masks are designed to translate most prey species common tongues. The relay can take a short amount of time. Are you not fitted with a translator unit?>>

"Wait, slow down. A what? Are you telling me I had to learn this growly shit that makes my throat hurt for _nothing_?!"

His delayed chittery chuckle only pissed her off more as they headed for the back door, Spike brushing up against her knee.

\----------

The ooman was endlessly amusing.   
Thei'dteinou could not understand why Hul'gkan complained of her incessant chattering so much.   
The primitive was surprisingly intelligent and could even speak the trade dialect, although she tended to sound drunk and slurred her words most of the time.

If he hadn't spotted the bent ferns over her hiding place, he might have never found the devious little thing. There was nowhere to run to in the kennel and he'd correctly assumed she was smart enough to be hiding somewhere. The mud and hound musk had hidden her heat signature and scent perfectly.

He'd thought she had climbed the tree at first and had almost left the place to try and find more evidence of her passing but the hound's yowling and an almost impercebtible growl nearby had given him an idea.

With how ferociously it had protected the ooman and how they were obviously spending time in each other's company peacefully, it was clear Hul'gkan's two pets had bonded. 

The little thing was also stronger that he'd ever give her credit too, she'd kicked the breath out of him.

Even her pouting was funny, muttering about the mud flaking off her while he led her to his abode to wait for his brother. He wasn't looking forward to letting her muck up his bathing chambers though.

Thei'dteinou was waiting for the ooman to be done cleansing while re-reading Hul'gkan's message, becoming more and more convinced something was amiss with his brother. 

Rumors of foul play had spread around about the Sciences building and the mangled bodies retrieved from it.  
With all his brother's boasting, Thei'dteinou had heard a little about the goings on there. Mostly of all the mating dances he had won, but some information about strange experiments and hints of Hul'gkan's dislike towards the now deceased Elder Physician still slipped through his brother's careful façade of imposed secrecy. He'd never been a good liar and preferred silence to dishonesty.

There were also worrying descriptions of Hul'gkan's sorry state when exiting the pyramid.

Nothing was clear which made the topic interesting - and even warriors liked to gossip, especially when it involved the carcass of a hardmeat and the death of a highly respected Elder.   
His friend's involvement had sent tongues wagging as well, but if Hul'gkan had walked away on his own two feet as the rumors claimed, he was certain nothing _too_ distressing had happened.

<<Ooman.>> he called upon hearing the bathing chamber's door shift open. <<Tell me what happened in the Sciences building.>> he demanded while deliberating wether to contact his hunt-brother or not.

"Why does everyone keep calling me 'human'? You're not even saying it right, by the way." came the little thing's frustrated whine.

<<This is not a time for games, Fire Eyes.>> he chided, once the mask relayed her words, in the same tone he used to chastise unruly pups whenever they would spectate at his challenges and pick fights with each other.

She grumbled something else but obediently sat in the woven chair in front of him, fidgeting in discomfort until he growled his impatience.

"How long have you known Hulk?" she asked.

<<Several times longer than you have lived. Stop stalling, ooman.>>

With the full-spectrum vision mode of his mask, he could see her little face screw up, the skin over the bony part of the protruding olfactory organ wrinkling in distaste.   
He began to understand why Hul'gkan both cursed and treasured his Trophy now. It wasn't as amusing to be around when it refused to cooperate, and he couldn't very well discipline someone else's pet, no matter how headstrong it was.

"And you are... siblings?"

The word she used translated as 'blood-kin' although he knew what she referred to.  
Deciding the fastest way to get answers was to humor the little primitive, he nodded and said: <<Brothers, linked not by blood but by the hunt.>>

<<You may speak freely, your n'yaka-de sent me to get you. No harm will come to you under my protection.>>

"What's a nikky-deh? Do you mean Hulk?" she clicked the word awkwardly. Ooman capacity for mimicry was advanced but their tongue wasn't the easiest to master for soft-meats.

Thei'dteinou clicked as he considered how to explain the concept of ownership, honor scales and the caste system to a pe-ghwie.   
He did not own any servants, pets or slaves himself, not wanting to bother with their upkeep despite the possible benefits of having the more menial tasks taken care of by someone else. Servants, who were already trained, were rarely afforded to newly blooded like himself, eta disgusted him on principle and he did not have the endless patience for training a hound, let alone a more sapient creature.  
And going by how troublesome _this_ one was, he doubted he ever would. 

<<Hul'gkan, by rights, has hunted and trained you. You answer only to him in obedience and must show respect to those above him.>>

The Trophy frowned even worse than before, bristling and tensing in her seat. He switched vision modes to better asses the response and finally understood the moniker.

"No one _owns_ me." Fire Eyes hissed back, voice smooth with vitriol.

Taken aback by the unexpected show of aggression, Thei'dteinou only clicked in confusion.

<<Respect. Debt. Worthy.>> she chattered like a drunken pup, face heating up like a furnace.

Thei'dteinou grind his tusks behind his mask. Could the little thing truly have earned his brother's Honor Dept? How would it know of the Code otherwise? 

It was a harrowing thought.   
Something must have gone very, _very_ wrong.

  
<<Tell me.>> he commanded once more and leaned forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> chiva = hunt
> 
> mei'hswei = brother
> 
> sain'ja = warrior
> 
> n'yaka-de = master/owner/one of more elevated status who is owed obedience
> 
> pe-ghwie = primitive
> 
> eta = slave(s)
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> Hope you liked our big boy Death Bringer!


	16. Welcome to the jungle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno if I can get back in the groove of things just yet but I'm happy I managed to get this out on time.
> 
> Now we get to see what Hulk's been up to.

Not speaking had never bothered him before.  
Often times, keeping silent was the best way to better himself. He knew he was young and considered weak - watching and waiting for an opportunity to advance was his best bet of going forward in life.  
Elder Iktaha'rg's very first lesson had been about patience and keeping reason at the forefront even when emotions threatened to spill out in violence.

Hul'gkan could still remember the fortnight he'd spent waiting for the Master to acknowledge his existence.   
At first, he'd been petulant and angry at being denied entrance into the training temple, convinced he was supposed to begin sparring as soon as he'd arrived.

Little had he known Iktaha'rg was already teaching him a very valuable lesson.

And yet, waiting with his hands tightly clasped behind his back while bending slightly at the waist for the Ancient to finish spewing all her accusations and attacks on his honor took every last ounce of patience, respect and learned obedience he had.

The Arbitrator's careful observation of every twitch of his tusk or chocked back growl helped settle any untoward thought of talking back. Showing even a hint of disrespect could cost him his spine.

At first, he had kneeled in her Honored presence when the wide stone doors has slid open, unaware of what was to come.

In stead of the Council room, which he had only seen renderings of, he'd been brought to one of the personal chambers belonging to Ancient Tjau'viath, away from most patrols and traffick from the rare visitor that might seek an audience at the Ancient's cabinet.

He'd been interrogated for the entire morning about the events leading up to and beyond the u'darahje's death - although the questions had been asked in such a way that his answers seemed to incriminate him rather than the Abomination, and he was silenced whenever he referred to the former Elder Physician as so.

<<Where is the primitive? I wish to question it.>> the Ancient demanded, turning her withered face, framed by white-gray tresses, towards the Arbitrator.

The warrior bowed, fist to his chest. <<It was not present at the time of the arrest. I did not think it relevant to - >>

<<Your duty is to _act_ , not think. I told you to bring me _all_ witnesses.>>

<<My deepest apologies, Honored Ancient. I had overlooked the ooman. Permit me to fetch it for you now.>> the man bent even lower in submission.

<<Begone, and do not fail me again.>> the Ancient rumbled.  
<<And _you. >>_ she turned her burning gaze back on Hul'gkan, still bending in front of her in respect.  
<<Follow me.>>

Hul'gkan grit his tusks to keep from hissing at the piling insults.   
Few sain'ja ever even saw an Ancient, let alone meet and speak to one. His upbringing told him he should feel honored to be in her mere presence but the dislike simmering under his scales was becoming harder and harder to hide.

<<Your chiva, it was but a season ago, was it not?>> the Ancient asked as she brazenly turned her back to him.  
<<Weren't you too old to be taking the challenge so late?>> she continued without allowing him to answer.

He waited for another quip and answered after a few heartbeats when she said no more.  
<<It was not my decision to make, Honored Ancient.>> he replied, proud that none of the anger slipped through his voice.

She hummed and clicked in amusement, shaking her head, the motion shifting her pale tresses from side to side and clinking together the myriad of decorations.   
He'd never seen so many on one person before. She must have been an accomplished hunter for many spans in her prime.

Hul'gkan buried his anger further. The Ancient had more than earned his respect through past deeds, long before he was even concieved, and he had done nothing to earn hers.

Still, everything about this meeting had been unusual. There were no _outright_ charges. It seemed more like the Ancient was fishing for something but he couldn't quite understand what.

<<Your pet, you said it took the last blow?>>

<<I was immobilized and unable to finish the fight. Fire Eyes did what I could not. And she has earned my D- >>

<<You named it? Foolish to give primitives such consideration. They are greedy creatures, especially oomans.>>

Hul'gkan clicked noncommittally, he did not entirely agree, Fire Eyes had earned her name but he could not contest the judgement on the rest of her species either.

They continued walking down a narrow corridor, passing several tall archways that showed an impressive view of the outside.  
The land was scorched, cracked in sharp patches and crags where only the hardiest of creatures lived, the still active volcanoes of the Wastes oozing a constant, steady stream of smoke on the horizon.  
He'd never seen the Wastes this close before and took a moment to scan the scenery with several vision modes while he had the chance.

<<Mesmerizing, isn't it?>> the Ancient said, having stopped as well, her tall frame casting long, branching shadows behind her in the dying noon-light, the suns close together.

<<A mirror of the Halls of Cetanu.>> he remembered the old tales of the Black Hunter. The volcanoes were his pyramids, the pillars of smoke his channels to the physical world and the flow of magma symbolizing the flow of all lifeblood He would eventually collect.  
Death came for everyone. No matter how strong or honorable, the Black Hunter would have you.   
It was only the manner in which one greeted Death that mattered. The Code had been set to help guide warriors on their paths to Honor. To serve the greatest of Hunters once he inevitably bested them. To earn their place at the Halls of the Worthy.

<<A devout? Rare to find one so young who still listens to the old stories. Youngbloods these days only care about trophies and pauking.>> the Ancient chittered with bitter amusement.

<<I suppose it would be a pity to waste such potential...>> she mused beside him earning a curious tilt of his head in return. <<No matter, the issue will be resolved shortly. We'll get this sorted as soon as that oaf brings the primitive. It will make a poor sacrifice to appease the Desert Clan, but they _will_ obey me.>> the Ancient rumbled, satisfaction chittering as an undertone.

Hul'gkan felt as though he'd swallowed his weight in river stones. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, grinind against his ribs. 

<<You may wait here. I have some calls to make. The Patrol should join you shortly.>> she ordered and left him behind in the open archway.

As soon as she was out of sight, he stepped as close to the edge as he could, bumping his hip against the low balustrade. His fingers danced over the interface of his gauntlet computer, uncaring that he'd dragged his claws through extra keys in his haste.  
Iktaha'rg could not have been nearby if he had called rather than come in person. His bearer might have still been on the planet but he had... doubts... regarding her willingness to help now.  
There was only one other warrior he trusted and was close enough to act in time.

He sent the unfinished message just before a pair of Honor Guards climbed the stairs, turning and hiding the fading interface behind his back so they couldn't catch a glimpse of his betrayal.

He prayed to Paya he had not just doomed his brother to death.

\----------

Allison gently ran a hand over her bruised arm, waiting as the huge warrior paced back and forth.

Spike was snorfling softly behind her while he napped, wet nose twitching. The poor dog hadn't strayed more than a few feet from her since they'd been brought here. She was more than happy to have him near, the familiar presence was reassuring.

Big Red was content to ignore her after she'd told her tale and he'd asked a few clarifying questions. She appreciated he hadn't pried when she'd stuttered through what Doctor Death had done to her in the end. She could see he was curious.

She watched as the big man paced back and forth in what she'd dubbed as the 'living room', which was wide and tall and had pelts and banners decorating the floor and walls as well as giant a fire pit that remained unlit. The mix of savage and advanced alien stuff somehow meshed together nicely. Was there an alien interior decorator out there?

<<The ones who came, you are certain they gave no name? Did you see them?>> he asked, suddenly turning just as she leaned back on a fine-haired pelt.

"They didn't say much and no, I was uh... Hulk told me to hide."

<<Tell me exactly wat they said.>> he requested again.

She tried to repeat as much as she remembered, stumbling over the words she didn't know or saying the closest equivalent to what she knew of the parts that made them up.   
After having been forced to learn the language and culture of these strange hunters and living with them so long, she'd found that words or parts of them could be used in various combinations to construct a new word with a completely new meaning but that was often related somehow to the original segments.

<<Gathering. Are you certain they said that? Gathering of what? And what is it about age?>>

"I... I don't..."

Big Red stilled and fixed her with his gray slate stare.

<<Council... Council of Ancients. Is that ->>

"Oh! That's what it sounded like!" she clapped her hands excitedly, repeating the correct terms in her head to remember them. It had become reflex by now to learn like this.

The Big man's shoulders sagged while the rest of his body tensed like a taunt string.

<<I must... >> Red put a meaty paw over his mask, the other hand curling and uncurling sporadically.  
Alarmed, Allison rose to her feet and carefully stepped around him.  
<< … _we_ must... _go_. Quickly.>> he turned and headed for the back of the room.

"Why? And where will we go? Is something wrong?" Allison fired off the questions one after another at Red's broad back.

Spike had sensed the tension and was shaking himself awake.   
Allsion gulped and Big Red stilled at frog-dog's low growl directed at the door they'd come through.

A soft trill sounded from Big Red's wrist that stopped him in his tracks immediately followed by a bang at the front entrance.

  
<<Get out and run for the jungle. Do not look back.>> he ordered as he turned on his heel, grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her towards the smaller exit roughly.

Another series of loud knocks came from the entrance as though someone was pounding on it. Her head felt cottoned up but her legs took over and she began running, Spike bolting in front of her before she cleared the room.

Allison ran like Hell was nipping at her heels. Whoever had taken away Hulk had come back for her.

\----------

Ash fell from the sky like snow, covering the ragged crags beyond the Wastes with a pale gray fluff that choked the life out of everything foolish enough to venture out.  
The ash would later fertilize the dry land when it rained but for now, it was little more than a could of cooling death settling between cracks in the ground.

Hul'gkan watched the aether shake off it's burden as the guards watched his every move. Word had gotten back that the Arbitrator hadn't found his quarry.   
To say that the Ancient had been furious would be a gross understatement.

His gauntlet hadn't been confiscated, so whatever suspicions of interference had arisen didn't involve him.   
_Yet_.

The Guards shadowing him stood rigidly on either side, seemingly neutral but Hul'gkan knew they were ready to strike at the slightest provocation.  
He remained seated on the long stone bench of the drafty antechamber. The cold air made him want to shiver despite the thermal mesh protecting him.  
Anxiousness wasn't something he had felt since early youth. He was unlike himself, mind whirling with unpleasant scenarios where either his hunt-brother got killed for impeding an Arbitrator or little Fire Eyes was caught and sent to the vengeful Desert Clan. Or both.

His stalwart patience and discipline were being eroded by every passing moment with no definitive answer.   
If only he could leave and check things for himself. 

  
The sound of several sets of rushing footsteps caught his attention and his head perked up. A new group was approaching the Ancient's Cabinet.

His hearts settle when he spots Elder Iktaha'rg's, tall, scarred form approaching. The older man has his ornate mask on, recognizable by the many carvings over the forehead and the stylized jaws with jagged teeth at the bottom.  
The Elder follows a tall, willowy wisp of an Ancient, easily the oldest yaut'ja Hul'gkan has ever seen. He wonders how the figure can even stand on such thin legs, or hold themselves up on their bent back.  
Their tresses are a dirty white, frazzled at the ends where some have unravelled. Their face is unmasked and full in equal parts tattoos and honor carvings, dripping with smaller spikes that sag and trail along the wrinkled corners of their tusks.  
The deepset eyes that seem allseeing and allknowing burn in a familiar amber color.  
This must be Iktaha'rg's famed bearer. Ancient Naghu'ja.

Around them are two pairs of Cetanu's Honor Guard arranged in perfect defensive formation.

Hul'gkan stands and immediately kneels before the Ancient, thumping his chest twice in respect, head bowed.

The Ancient ignores him in favor of barging into their younger counterpart's Cabinet.

There is no sound for so long that Hul'gkan thinks the others may have just left if not for Iktaha'rg's warm presence beside him. When he looks up he can see the guards standing rigidly at attention and the frazzled Ancient staring into the wide open chambers with a chilling intensity.

At some unspoken prompt, they enter and the heavy stone doors slide shut with nary a hiss of friction.

He raises to his feet and tries very hard not to bombard Iktaha'rg with all his questions.   
The old man must sense his anxiety though, for as soon as the guards take their positions along the walls to wait, he motions for Hul'gkan to follow to a nearby alcove. They are still within sight of the guards, but they obviously trust or respect the Elder enough not to impede on his privacy.

<<Where is the ooman, boy?>> Iktaha'rg's hissed clicks are low, menacing and unexpected. Hul'gkan's head snakes back, unaware of what he'd done to earn the scolding tone.

<<Elder, I do not understa ->>

<<You do not need to understand! Tell me where it is!>> The Elder's rattle echoes faintly in the cavernous alcove, surely drawing the Guard's attention although they are too disciplined to show it.

<<I left Fire Eyes in my dwelling.>> he replies carefully, frowning under his mask. The Elder flinches at his own nickname for her as though burned. He's never seen his teacher so easily affected.

Iktaha'rg huffs under his mask and reaches up to remove it. Hul'gkan keeps his on.

<<Do you know anything of your hunt-brother's whereabouts?>> the Elder asks, staring him in the eyeplates.

Hul'gkan feels dread unlike any before pool in his stomach, trying to worm its way up his throat. 

His next words will likely determine his own fate as well as his brother's. His honor forbids him from lying but it also demands he do his best to protect Ah-lee. 

<<I do not know.>> it is not a lie. 

His teacher eyes him for a few heartbeats, assessing him.

<<Do you know where he _might_ be?>> the Elder rephrases, crossing his arms. 

Hul'gkan swallows, tongue dry and sticking unpleasantly to the soft folds of skin of his inner mouth.

<<On a hunt perhaps? He has expressed the desire to expand his big game collection not long ago.>> this is also not a lie, but he feels the pressure of untruth settle over his shoulders like a lead cloak. 

Iktaha'rg hums deep in his chest, considering the floor this time.

<<Tell me, Youngblood.>> the Elder's voice is unnaturally low now, hushed. One of the Guards awu-asa creaks as they break discipline and shuffle their feet. <<Did you have anything to do with your brother's actions today?>>

<<What actions?>> Hul'gkan asks in stead of answering. Avoiding the truth is technically not a lie either. The lead cloak becomes an ill-fitting cuirass constricting his chest.

<<Thei'dteinou has been found suspect of sheltering Arbitrator Kuj’hade's quarry. The very same who brought you here and was tasked with retrieving your pet. That fool has led the Enforcer on a merry chase through half the upper village and the primitive is nowhere to be found.>> his teacher ranted, gesturing with a dark-taloned paw.

So his brother still lives. And Ah-lee had not been captured.  
The fist squeezing his lungs releases and he can finally breathe normally again.

<<You did not know... >> the Elder surmises and Hul'gkan curses himself for being unable to control his reactions. Such a mistake could mean his spine in any other situation. Right now it is simply happenstance that it aids rather than hinders him.

Hul'gkan's mind whirls. Concern for his brother and Ah-lee mixes with confusion over today's events and relief at knowing them both still free. It is a weakness he must learn to control.  
He must calm himself. He must _think_. There are things that don't add up.

<<Elder... last week - do you know... >> he ventures but Iktaha'rg stops him with a curt cut of his hand.

<<I have heard your account of what… transpired… in the Sciences building.>> the taller man clicks in a murmur.  
<And I believe it. I know you would not lie.>>

Hul'gkan looks away at the show of trust. He no longer deserves it.

<<Then why do you agree to turn her in?>>

<<It is better than the alternative.>> Iktaha'rg grinds his tusks together in displeasure.

<<What alternative?>>

<<That you be sent in her place. _Fool boy_.>> the Elder growls so low, even Hul'gkan who is barely half an armspan away has trouble hearing.

The information does not process immediatelly, Hul'gkan takes a step back to gather his thoughts.

<< … in her place?>> he clicks faintly.

  
The Elder huffs a deep puff of breath and allows his wide shoulders to slump.  
<<There is a price to pay… for the Elder Physician's demise.>>

The fury is quick to come and impossible to leash.  
<<Abomination!>> Hul'gkan curses, drawing the Guards' eyes to him.

Iktaha'rg begins to admonish him but is interrupted by the heavy stone doors slamming open, allowing the willowy Ancient to exit, quickly followed by their younger counterpart.  
Now that Hul'gkan realizes the true implications of this mock of a trial, he can see the resemblace Ancient Tjau'viath has to both the Desert Clan women. The light spectrum filter of his mask shows that her markings are faint, weathered by time and scars, but the smudges of pattern are reminiscent of both the Abomination and Vay'n'ritja.

How could he have missed it? Ancient Tjau'viath is of their blood, there is no mistaking her Desert Clan heritage.

\----------

The jungle is loudest at night.

It's a strange place, caught between startingly familiar and utterly alien.

After her mad dash, not stopping untill her lungs burned and her legs trembled, Allison had practically collapsed over a large, moss-covered stone. At least, she hoped it was moss. Probably something completely different, it was deep blue after all, but it looked very similar and seemed to work the same so she called it moss.

She sat there for what felt like hours, trying to catch her breath and make as little sound as possible.

Eventually, the fear of getting caught by some other even less friendly aliens got her moving again. Big Red had looked genuinely spooked when he'd realized who was after her. She'd never thought these guys were even capable of fear.

Ironic and fitting that it took another big scaly bastard to do it.   
Was there anything out there that was _stronger_ than the hunters?   
She didn't want to find out.

Allison walked, doing her best to leave as few marks of her passing as possible and doubling back to take different roots every now and then, trying to avoid patterns.

Spike would hinder her progress by stepping _exactly_ where she didn't want to leave a trace and sometimes helping by going off in different directions and trampling the vegetation up, probably to scout the area.

Eventually, she would have to stop and look for water. Her flight had taken a lot out of her and even though her new mesh suit was keeping her cool, she still sweated in the humid heat.

The dusky light of day was fading and it would soon be impossible to see where she was going. She wouldn't dehydrate for a couple of hours of darkness while she waited for first sun, judging that wandering around at night would be _deeply_ stupid of her.

She happened upon strange rock formations that looked too geometrically perfect to be natural.   
Old, crumbled remains of ruins perhaps?  
How weird to think the hunters had buried and forgotten antiquities too.

Her fruitless search for water had to be paused as it started raining. Large, heavy drops of water fell from the sky and pinged their way down on lush alien foliage.  
It was loud and constant, forcing her to take refuge under the tall awning of a ruin.

While there was still light, she used a few large fronds to gather clean water and drank thirstily then let them gather up again.  
Spike just lapped his share from a puddle, she wasn't too concerned about his survival out here, he was definitely more suited for the jungle than she was.

It didn't look like it'd be letting up soon, so she started fumbling around with large leaves, stripping the major veins to weave a small pouch she then lined with the shiny parts of the leaves facing inwards. It wasn't perfect but it would hold rainwater untill she found a creek.

It rained well into the night with the nocturnal animals adding another layer of sound.   
She was damp but fortunately not cold and her thirst was no longer a problem.  
Her stomach rumbled in protest. The water hadn't done anything about her hunger. She hadn't eaten anything since… yesterday.  
Damn Red for interrupting her dinner.  
She was tired too, but couldn't risk sleep. Not even with Spike's bulk crowding right next to her.  
There'd been some deep yowls in the thick night she didn't want to face unaware.

So she huddled under her mossy stone and did her best to stay alert.

She'd need to fashion a weapon of some kind. Or at least find a sturdy stick.

The night felt longer in the jungle and first sun was tardy, barrely lighting her surroundings enough to stumble around by. The rain had thankfully stopped.

As soon as she could walk, she stood and stretched, trying to work out the crick in her back.  
It was quieter now, as though the shift to hazy dawn brought peace. Back home this would usually be the time when all the birds would start singing. She missed them.

  
The canopy was moving with the slight breeze, bringing a fresh wave of cool air.

She was so hungry and tired.  
The rain may have bought her some time by covering her tracks, but the muddy ground would now be impossible to navigate without leaving tracks and she couldn't jump from tree to tree like Hulk.  
Her hope that he was still alive and on his way to save her was dwindling.

It wasn't the first time her mind had wandered to him. Either to cuss him out or pray for his return.  
She just knew this was all his fault _somehow_.

Her eyes were closing as she slowly made her way through, trying to step on leaves rather than mud and failing with every squelchy step.

Maybe she should rest. Take a nap.  
She almost slipped and she caught on to the nearest frond, dragging the long, curling leaf down and shrieking with cold as a loose dash of water that had pooled further up the canopy splashed her from hear to toe.

Spike grumbled as though in commiseration and licked her cheek with his raspy tongue.

"… that's one way to wake up…" she huffed and got up unsteadily, then resumed her trek, stopping here and there to listen for flowing water while the jungle was still quiet. Maybe she could use the falling water trick to wash away her tracks too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> sain'ja = warrior 
> 
> chiva = trial/right of passage
> 
> u'darahje = abomination
> 
> pauk = fuck
> 
> \---
> 
> Tjau'viath - Sandstorm
> 
> Naghu'ja - Spirit Sword
> 
> Kuj’hade - Destroyer
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N 
> 
> Allison's last bit wasn't as interesting but I kinda wanted to show her doing her best to survive (and give Spike a little more love)
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	17. Worse every day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another guest appearance!  
> People seem to like the old coot so I gave him some screentime.
> 
> !!!
> 
> Kind of a SPOILER
> 
> !!!
> 
> Trigger warning for blood and animal cruelty in the second half.
> 
> !!!

Iktaha'rg has had many unpleasant events in his long life.

Pain, injury, difficult challenges, near-death experiences and violent quarrels with others of his kind were a normal, or perhaps vital, part of any sain'ja's existence.

He has lost pups, young trainees and Unbloods to tragedy or dishonor and he'd thought those to be the worst misfortunes he had ever lived through.

They all pale in comaprison to watching his brightest student be punished unfairly.

Ancient Naghu'ja, his bearer, contacted him to inquire after 'the fool Youngblood who had earned the Desert Clan's ire'.

It was then that he'd learned of the strange events in the Sciences building. 

He'd dug around. Being a highly respected Elder and Warden, he had plenty of pull on his own to investigate the matter beyond what the Ancient found.   
He'd known something was strange when the bodies recovered from the site had been cremated. No investigation had been conducted and no ceremony had been held for the departed Elder.

Not two days after, he'd tracked down the Healer who had first responded and had tried to speak with the man, but after repeated calls it was only a technician who finally responded and revealed that the man had died in a challenge to the death.  
It wouldn't have been suspicious had the mating season still been in full swing. From what else Iktaha'rg had gathered, the Healer barely participated in fights for mating rights either, being older and uninterested in siring pups anymore.

The whole ordeal stank of politics, and there was little he could do about it.

In the end, with Ancient Naghu'ja's intervention on his behalf after he had brought the collected information to them, Ancient Tjau-viath had been quickly convinced (or perhaps coerced) to offer her old Clan the primitive as consolation for the loss of their most respected Elder in stead of demand his student's life as reparation. The ooman had, after all, been the one to technically end the Elder Physician's life.

Although Ancients should not favor any Clan in particular, least of all their own, blood ties were still strong in some and a small intervention here and there to avoid outright skirmishes between multiple Clans wasn't uncommon.  
As an Elder, he himself had worked from the shadows to resolve conflicts before they could escalate beyond personal quarrels and involve extended family since it would eventually bring in the whole Clan.

Yaut'ja weren't the most social of creatures, but what ties one did have, one would protect with their life - and loyalty to a leader was often times absolute.

He found the whole matter distasteful and unbecoming of an Ancient. He'd only heard rumors of Tjau-viath. A harsh woman, strict and exacting to the full extent of the Honor Code but not vengeful or unfair.

Iktaha'rg waited outside his bearer's personal set of rooms. Hul'gkan quietly seething beside him.  
The young man was rightfully angry, Je-st'sha're had acted dishonorably and while there was no way to prove wether she had been an Abomination or not anymore, he believed his student.

Pity the girl had to be sacrificed… 

Iktaha'rg had tried his best to distance himself from the primitive. Time and absence had aided him somewhat, but he still remembered the feisty little ooman fondly.   
A sharp mind in a weak body. A will that burned through her eyes.   
It was unfortunate that her potential would be wasted like this. She would have made a magnificent training aid and would have likely taught the Youngblood as much as learn from him.

<<Elder.>> the boy in question interrupts his musings.  
He was rigid now, shoulders set with that cant that meant he'd made a decision.

It was good the young one had seen reason. There was no point in paying with his life for nothing. Better to resolve this quietly and not mire himself in all these blasted politics.   
He would be Iktaha'rg's legacy, teach future generations in the same techniques he'd been taught, perhaps add to them eventually.   
Not many had the patience and consideration for a life as an educator.  
Once the young man had a taste of working as a scout with a group and had more experience hunting, he would be ready for the second phase of the Elder's instruction.

To think Iktaha'rg had almost turned him away for something as trifle as size. Good thing Nrachackt'ra's insistence had won him over - he never _could_ refuse that woman.  
He couldn't afford to waste the young man's life, not after investing so much into him - and there was yet more to teach!   
Hul'gkan would be taught in the ways of the Wardens, not just ordinary Teachers who perpetuated martial training, but caretakes, mediators and the closest thing their people had to diplomants. His thoughtful nature was befitting of the role and with Iktaha'rg's guidance, the correct way would be inherited, the path lenghtened and Honor kept - as it had been tended for aeons untold by Iktaha'rg's own teacher and her teacher before and so on.

Iktaha'rg had waited too long for a student with the right potential to be found.   
There had been _another_... one of his own blood. But that hope had been shattered not too long ago.  
He could train a new youngling, but he'd grown… attached… to the boy. Didn't want to give him up that easily.

And who knew how long it would take to suss out a proper replacement. He was already an Elder, time was a luxury he could not afford to waste either.

<<I owe Ah-lee a Debt of Honor.>> the young man's words ring in his skull, interrupting his plans, their meaning registering with a slight delay.  
<<I will face the punishment meant for her. I only ask… if you could perhaps have her returned to N'ithya, in the dto where we found her? Or at least a reserve planet with her kind?>> he asks, voice ringing with sincerity, almost timidly.

Iktaha'rg stood a moment, denials itching on his tongue.  
But no, Hul'gkan would not lie about this. Would not offer himself unless he meant it. The boy never made an empty gesture in his life and it would be unlike him to start now.

<<You… why would you offer her your Honor…?>> he found himself asking before his mind finished churning.

<<She saved my life Elder, most of all, she spared me a dishonorable death. How could I _not_?>> he shrugs, motion so very reminiscent of little Fire Eyes.  
<<Perhaps this is why I lived, to die with what Honor is left to me now.>> he muses, sounding infuriatingly at peace with the matter.

<< _Fool boy_ …>> Iktaha'rg grumbles, fighting the seed of pride growing in his chest.  
<<You and Fire Eyes both have more courage than sense.>>   
  
Once the boy made up his mind about something, he was nigh impossible to dissuade. Iktaha'rg would have to find another way to handle this.

The Youngblood cocked his head, uncertain if he should take the words as insult or compliment.

Iktaha'rg would not blemish both their Honors by knocking him out (although he _dearly_ wanted to) and keep him sequestered untill after the deed was done.   
There was also the risk of alerting the Guards if a scuffle broke out, Hul'gkan would most certainly not go down easy and then there would be no stopping him from declaring himself a dead man.

Once the words were out, there was no taking them _back_.

<<It is an admirable intent.>> Iktaha'rg nods, temporarily pacifying the Youngblood   
<<But I will not permit it.>> he crosses his arms, looking down expectantly at Hul'gkan's immediate shift to an aggressive stance, quills and cut tresses bristling in anger.

<<You cannot stop - >>

<< _Neither_ will pay the price.>> he states firmly, albeit in a hushed tone. The Guards had been dismissed, but there was no point in advertising his intentions.  
<<I never liked this plan to begin with.>> he rattles. 

Naghu'ja may have been the wisest person he knew on Prime, possibly in all of existence, but even they could easily succumb to dishonor by struggling to keep the tenuous peace. Intra-Clan politics were messy that way.  
He hadn't liked the proposition when it was first made either. And something about how quickly Ancient Tjau'viath had accepted didn't sit well with him, even though his bearer had been pleased the matter could be solved quickly and without causing more chaos.

He had chosen to trust in his bearer, but now that Hul'gkan had threatened to intervene, the pieces of whatever game of influence they were playing had shifted. He would not allow his pupil to perish for a power-grab.

<<But - >>

<<No time. We must leave. While we still have the chance.>> he rumbles and starts walking, Hul'gkan hastening to follow behind.

The Guards could be dealt with, as long as he picked their exit well and no alarm was raised, they could easily leave in his personal shuttle.   
None dared defy the Council. It was unthinkable that one of the Elders would abscond with a prisoner, unfairly retained or not.  
Iktaha'rg had come and gone from the Pyramid of Judgement on errands for the Clan enough times that he was mostly ignored by now, it was unlikely he would be questioned.

Naghu'ja would not care if he left and Ancient Tjau'viath was probably busy explaining the change of plans to her bitrth-Clan's Leaders.   
Technically the Youngblood was supposed to be kept while the Arbitrator retrieved his prey, but no one expected a mere ooman to slip away for long.

Obviously, they didn't know Fire Eyes well.

\----------

Spike's long, pointy tongue lolled out as he panted for breath, the humid heat was getting to him too, and he didn't have a nifty mesh suit to keep him somewhat cool.

Allison wasn't doing much better, sweating like a pig while using the long stick she'd found to steady herself over the uneven ground.  
She'd even wallowed in mud to chill out and ward off some of the smaller biting insects that had taken a liking to her. She hoped none of them had lain eggs in her skin, she'd read a few horror stories about idiots going into the Amazon jungle unprepared and this place was far worse.

  
They'd been walking for most of the day, slowly making their way towards where Allie was almost certain a river flowed.  
The sound was getting louder the closer they got. Hopefully it wasn't a waterfall, she doubted she'd have the same luck surviving one twice and who the hell knew what dangerous critters lived in the water.  
With her luck, she and Spike both would be eaten by the giant dinosaur-bug thing she'd half-glimpsed the last time she was here.

Damn Hulk and his whole _damned_ species and all their freaky jungle animals too!  
Except for Spike, he was a good boy.

She laughed in relief when she smelled the fresh water and ran for the bank to kneel in the mud and splash water on her face.  
Spike lapped at it with gusto, quenching his thirst.  
Allison hoped it wouldn't make him sick. In stead of a clear, shallow creek like last time, this was considerably wider and deeper looking, the water wasn't as clean either, although it was still refreshingly cool and it rushed by in a steady flow in stead of trickle along.

There was no way she was drinking this without filtering and boiling it beforehand, she still had her rainwater and it would probably pour again soon judging by the quickly darkening sky she could see through a break in the canopy.

They'd need to find or make shelter soon.

She wondered where Hulk was, would he even be able to find her? This jungle was a lot bigger than her little mountain forest.   
He'd probably smack her upside the head for 'doubting his hunting skills' if he were present.

It was strange to realize, and she felt it a betrayal of herself, but she really wanted him here... If only he could just swoop in and take her away somewhere _safe_ , where she didn't flinch at every creaking branch and distant animal howl.

Having Spike around was a comfort. She didn't know what she'd do if she were all alone out here. Sometimes it felt like nothing had bothered her just because the hound was around.

Her stomach growled louder as she settled herself on a thick low branch, pulling her makeshift leaf umbrella overhead for the soon to come rain.   
The hunger pangs were getting worse, she'd have to find something to eat soon. There were some fruits she'd picked along the way but they didn't look like anything she'd eaten before so she was hesitant to try them.  
Spike was snuffing around the jungle floor, eventually settling himself right underneath her.

Tired and hungry, she closed her eyes and dozed, lulled by the continuous beat of a billions raindrops and trusting Spike's instincts to keep them both safe.

\----------

She flinches awake to the menacing sounds of Spike's low growls reverberating over the roar of the river and almost falls off of her perch.

Shivers run down her spine, raising the fine hairs on her arms in goosebumps despite the heat. She'd never heard him make those sounds before and something in her, something ancient that urges her to run-hide-survive, instinctively feares the alien hound.

Spike was already up on his feet, big head lowered and growling continuously with sharp teeth bared and maw dripping copious amounts of saliva. All the spines along his back had risen in aggression and his muscles rippled and tensed under tough reptilian skin.

The thundering in her heart only quickened when she realised that the frog-dog wasn't aiming his aggression at her, but was looking intently somwhere deep in the jungle.

There was something out there.

Something _dangerous_.

Allison slowly crawls down to the base of the tree, hanging off the thick branch for a beat then dropping three feet, landing on the balls of her feet and swaying as blood rushes to her head. Hunger makes her faint but the adrenaline coursing through her veins helps keep her upright.

Spike backs up untill his rump touches her thigh, growling and snarling all the way.  
The tremble in his haunches make her suspect he's more scared than anything.

A shimmer catches her eye, not much higher up in the canopy than she had been.  
A bulky form ripples and shifts like heat over the road in summer in the shape of a large man. Except she knows now this was no mere man, but a hunter unlike any other.

How long had he been watching her? Would he have just snuck up on her if the hound hadn't sounded the alert? Kill her in her sleep? 

The air ripples as the hunter lets himself fall, predatory grace evident in every move. He disengages the cloaking and reveales himself. His skin is dusky yellow where it peeks out from underneath intricate armor.

Was Big Red dead?  
Despite not being as large, this one radiated lethal intent. He looked oder, had more scars, weapons and armor than any other hunter she'd seen so far.   
Even Gramps wasn't as decked out as him when he'd worn all his stuff.  
He reminded her of a cop in riot gear, with armor covering most of him and a multitude of weapons strapped about his person. All that was missing was a shield. 

What chance did she have of surviving something even worse than Hulk?

Probably none, but she had to try either way.

Allison squared her stance and grabbed the sturdy stick she'd been using to navigate the other day. It wasn't sharpened, but it was thick and dense like a baseball bat, almost as tall as she was and it ended in a jagged tip. She'd pulled the drying branch all the way off where it was hanging from a young tree.

The beastly man stands tall, the cant of his masked face indicating he's surveying her, or maybe planning his attack.  
He chitteres and shakes his head dismissively, crossing his muscular arms.   
She has the distinct impression the bastard was laughing at her.

<<Sy'ua, ooman. Bpi-de kv'var h'ka-se.>> his deep voice sends a new wave of shivers down her spine. She recognizes it. The same who had spoken to Hulk two days ago.

  
Allison bares her teeth and swings the broken end of the stick forward in defiance.

<<Je'kainde.>> the monster shakes his head again, sounding amused and disturbingly eager.  
  
<<Yeyinde-te? Mmmrrhh, s'yuidte k'tei….>> he chitters again in derision, punching his right fist into his left palm as he takes two steps forward, prompting Spike to snuff and make those guttural barks of warning.  
  


He pumps the air shortly with his left fist and two wicked wristblades shoot out. His humming laugh is cruel.   
Spike was just about foaming at the mouth. She feared he'd be skewered if he jumped at the unknown hunter.

<<Dah'kte mou kiloun?>> she growls and clicks in disbelief, shaking her stick at him.  
  


The hunter regards her for a long moment cocking his head to the side and clicking in thought. Then he squares his stance to mirror hers, retracts the blades with another short jerk of his arm and reaches up to meticulously unclasp his mask, disconnecting tubes one by one as the air hisses out and slowly lifting it off to reveal his crabby, ritualistically scarred face.  
His eyes burn bright orange in his deepset, dark-skinned sockets, fixing her with an air of superiority and malice as he clasps the mask to his belt without breaking eye contact. She knows this is both challenge and dismissal, for what is she but a slightly smarter monkey against one akin to a god?

His tusks click and chitter, spreading out in their people's version of a smug smile as he reaches a hand out, palm open upwards and slowly beckons her with two claw-tipped fingers.

Allison stays where she is. No way would she attack this thing. He'd swat her away like a fly.  
She had to run, lose him in the river behind her. It had swelled considerably while she'd slept, enlarged with the precipitation from a few hours ago.  
It had worked to escape Hulk, _for a time_ …

The frog-dog is still growling in front her, trembling outright with suppressed aggression.   
She doesn't know exactly what sets him off but before she realizes what the shift in his haunches mean, he's already six feet ahead, launching himself at the hunter and biting down on the exposed part of his wrist and hand.  
There's a screech of metal where the hound's teeth scrape against armor.

The hunter yowls and curses, dragged down by the considerable weight of the hound.

Allison doesn't even have time to yell in denial as the deadly wristblades shoot out and embed themselves in Spike's humped back.  
The hound yelps between his teeth but doesn't let go, pulling on his prize and shaking his maw to saw his teeth in, fluorescent green blood spattering sideways with ever jerk of his head.

The hunter punches down with his other fist, smashing into the hound's head with a resounding crack.  
Dazed, Spike releases the hand he'd bitten, now a mangled, bloody mess, and staggers to side - only to be kicked in the middle by and armored boot.

Allison chokes on a sob at the sickening crunch of ribs breaking and can only watch as Spike goes sailing through the air to smack into a thick treetrunk, splinters exploding at his back, and fall limply to the wet jungle floor with a barely audible whine.

It all happened so quickly, barely a few seconds between when Spike was growling before her and now lay unmoving, blood soaking the already wet ground.

The hunter roars after the hound, clutching his mauled hand, and begins to stalk after where Spike had fallen, raising his blood-stained wristblades to deliver the killing blow.

Something in her snaps, the part of her screaming to run is overwhelmed by another, stronger voice that calls out for violence. She wants to spill the hunter's blood, _smash_ his face into a bloody pulp and spit on his _corpse_.

Allison screams and launches herself at the hunter, reaching him just before he swings those deadly blades into her hound's skull and smashing her poor excuse for a staff into the back of his oval skull.

The wood breaks with the force of her blow, throwing splinters everywhere as a piece goes flying out and the hunter staggers with a grunt of pain.

Allison wastes no time in retreating her only weapon, anticipating the monster's turn and stabbing up with the jagged end of her stick into his ugly face, aiming for the eyes.

He roars again, good hand going up to clutch at his face and swings his blades over her head as she ducks just in time to avoid decapitation, droplets of bright blood speckling her with fluorescent green from his bitten hand.

Unfortunately, the blades cuts clean through her staff like a heated knife through butter, reducing it to less than half its former length and jarring her arms as she struggles and fails to keep hold of it and back away at the same time.

She needs to do something before he recovers, a drawn out fight is impossible with someone like him. She tries to reach for the knife strapped to his calf but he sidsteps and she instinctively rolls to the side, catching the kick that would have surely shattered her insides as just a glancing blow that still dislocates her shoulder.

Allison screams again, this time in agonizing pain as darkness threatens to overwhelm her vision. She slips on something and falls, the sharp pain in her ankle is nothing compared to burning in her shoulder.

If she passes out now she will surely die. She grits her teeth and scuttles backwards to hide behind a thick tree.

The spike of mad energy from before has left her and she is reduced to a sniveling mess once more.

The hunter growls and moans in pain too, cursing up a storm of clicking profanity she only partly recognizes.

She hears him pant in the clearing as she bites her lip to keep from crying out in pain, her shoulder pulses with every breath and she's hyperventilating.

<<Had it not been for orders to bring you back alive…>> the hunter rumbles, almost in regret. <<I would have you flayed for that. _Slowly_.>>

Allison gulps back her hiccoughs, tears trailing down her cheeks to gather and fall from her chin. She tries to push up and find somewhre else to hide but her ankle gives out and she falls back on her ass.

The hunter huffs and somewhere above of her a leaf crunches.

<<Perhaps the Ancient will allow me to finish my hunt once she's done with you and that _runt._ >> he muses, sounding eager once more.   
He is closer.  
She shimmies down on her belly and crawls under a dense bush of ferns.

There is no sound for a while as she attempts to breathe through her panic.  
There's a desperate edge to her movement as she wiggles through the undergrowth, even if they want her alive - whatever else they'll take from her would be worse than a quick death.

A hand suddenly snakes in and pulls her by her injured arm, wrenching it painfully. She howls outright and struggles, only managing to squirm in the dirt while the bastard laughs.

<<A brave worm, but still a _worm_.>> he taunts as he finally releases her forearm, his whole fist rearing back to punch her. She is in too much pain to do more than writhe in the mud. There's nothing she can do to stop him from knocking her out.   
She can't beat him, even if her shoulder wasn't popped out.  
She can't run with a sprain.

There's no fighting this, but somehow her body still tries to crawl away, pushing herself on her back, sliding on wet earth with her good leg.

The sight of luminous green blood at one closed eye brings a bitter sort of satisfaction, even as the other orange iris burns down at her in contempt.

A ripple shudders in the air above, clinging from branch to branch until it is above them.  
He notices her eyes flicker from his own and tilts his head in curiosity but has no time to turn as the watery form drops feet first into the hunter's head, knocking him out with barely a sound of protest from the hunter.

Familiar clicks and angry growls sound as the form crouches over its prey, the distorted shape of a hand reaching out to touch under the protective mesh at the armored hunter's neck.

Allie cries as a wave of relief crashes over her once the figure lets their cloak of invisibility fall.

He's found her!

She's so happy to see him, smiling through the pain at the rumbled apology.  
There's no chance to tease him about regretting other people's actions again before he grabs her dislocated arm and snaps the joint back in with a disgusting pop she can still hear over her screams.

Allison's vision goes black as her eyes roll to the back of her head, unconsciousness finally taking away all her aches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex
> 
> sain'ja = warrior
> 
> Sy'ua, ooman. Bpi-de kv'var h'ka-se.  
> Surrender, human. Now the hunt ends.
> 
> Je'kainde.  
> Stubborn.
> 
> Yeyinde-te? Mmmrrhh, s'yuidte k'tei….  
> Bravery (from you)? Hmm, still pathetic…
> 
> Dah'kte mou kiloun?  
> Wristblades against wood?
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N  
> Don't hate me for hurting Spike. He had a job to do, but you can't win agsinst an Enforcer with just a hound.
> 
> Anyway! I'm glad I managed to get this out on time again. Go me!


	18. No home for you here

Hul'gkan paced back and forth before the med-bay where little Ah-lee rested.

He had a lot of pent up rage coiling around his gut like a snake made of molten rock.  
Exercise, meditation or even beating the c'jit out of training drones had done nothing to quell his temper and he'd found himself pacing the floors of Iktaha'rg's ship, invariably being drawn to her location like a moth to flame.

He did not enter the room, much as his impulses demanded he take another look to be certain she was whole. That she still breathed slowly in sedate sleep.  
That she was safely back in his presence.

He should have killed the Arbitrator. Torn Kuj’hade's spine out and beaten him with it. He'd dearly wanted to.

The Enforcer had been careless in his hunt, injuring the prey he was supposed to bring back alive to the Pyramid of Judgement. Had he landed that last strike before Hul'gkan managed to knock the man out, he might have damaged her permanently.  
Hul'gkan had never hated anyone more. For the suffering he'd put Fire Eyes through, for his loyal hound…

The paltry injuries Kuj’hade had sustained did not make up for his dishonor, or Hul'gkan's mounting fury.

But slaying the man would have spelled disaster for more than himself. Not only earning Hul'gkan the status of Ic'jit but also endagering all who had helped him.  
So he had stayed his hand, even checked the Enforcer for a pulse before kicking him away and tending to Fire Eyes.

He couldn't believe how much he'd missed her funny little face as she scrunched it in a pained grimace and tilted her head in askance when he'd apologized in advance.

The way she had screamed when he'd set her shoulder back… it still sent tremors of unease down his back.  
He hadn't enjoyed causing her undue pain, but the sooner the joint was set back in it's socket, the better and faster it would heal.  
Shoulder injuries could be debilitating if left untreated for too long, even for yaut'ja. Chronic pained ailed most Elders who lived and hunted long enough to earn the title, and oomans were much more fragile and easy to break.

She'd thankfully lost consciousness afterwards, sparing herself more unneeded pain, although carrying her and the hound back to where Iktaha'rg would meet them had been an exercise in balance.

He hoped the old hound would make it through the treatment. It's injuries were severe and it had been mostly unresponsive. He'd debated putting it down to end it's suffering right then and there, but couldn't bring himself to do it.   
In the end he'd administered a regeneration serum and patched the bleeding stab wounds after making sure Ah-lee was tended to but it could just as easily die from shock as from its wounds. It had barely let out a strangled whine when the serum was injected.   
Normally, the pain would be _excrutiating_.  
Most would not have wasted it on an animal, especially if they had no way of procuring more in the immediate future.

Iktaha'rg was already waiting, having collected a very remoresful looking Thei'dteinou, likey so after a thorough scolding, who had stepped forward to take the hound off his hands since Hul'gkan had refused to let anyone touch Ah-lee.

They'd also come up with a plan - while Hul'gkan quickly hunted for his former Trophy, Iktaha'rg had retrieved Thei'dteinou.  
He'd known he'd find her near the river after his brother had informed him of her flight and her anguished cries had aided in locating the exact place. If only he'd found her before Kuj’hade, neither Ah-lee nor his hound would be hurt.

The plan was relatively simple.   
Iktaha'rg would take Hul'gkan and Fire Eyes on his ship while Thei'dteinou took the hound and left in Hul'gkan's newly acquired one.

The hope was that once it was known all the persons of interest had disappeared, the Enforcers would track Hul'gkan's ship to a nearby game reserve planet where his hunt-brother would be taking big game trophies.   
They would likely mistake the two lifeforms (provided the hound survived) registered in the ship's manifest as himself and his pet.

Since Thei'dteinou had committed no major crime and had only given an Arbitrator the run-around, an act that was more embarasing to Kuj’hade than a stain on his brother's honor, he would likely be recalled on Prime but left unpunished.  
Explaining why he'd used Hul'gkan's ship in stead of his own would be made easier by the fact that his mei-hswei's vessel was already in the process of receiving upgrades and the two often met on the same reserve in search of trophies.

The charade would ideally buy Hul'gkan enough time to sequester Fire Eyes somewhere safe on another planet then inevitably return to demand a proper investigation with Iktaha'rg vouching for his sincerity.   
From what the old man had said, the Ancients wanted this handled silently. Make enough noise and drawing the attention of all the Allied Clans to the situation would give him a chance. 

Once a fair trial was started, Thei'dteinou could retrieve Fire Eyes who would testify as the only conscious witness. She would not be viewed as completely unbiased, no primitive was, but it would throw enough doubt into whatever the Desert Clan had to say to potentially save both their lives.

He could not count on Vay'n'ritja, even if she woke up from her healing sleep in time. She may not wish to participate in order to remain loyal to her Clan, or worse, choose to lie for them.  
She'd left the impression of an honorable hunter, but her deception during the mating dance proved her capable of misdirection at the very least. It was better if she remained unconscious.

It was unlikely that he would win the proceedings but he would sacrifice the rest of his Honor to pay his Dept to Ah-lee.   
He could just regain it in time, even though he would suffer ridicule and punishment.  
The lashings would add even more disfigurement to his back, but he would endure it.

It was infinitely better than an execution or exile. The key was to present their version of events with enough credibility to sway some of the Council towards a more lenient outcome.   
Exile or execution judgements when no direct proof of foul-play existed were serious matters that required a unanimous vote. The Ancients could not risk dishonoring themselves by slaying one without fault.  
Usually exiles were decided upon in absentia for the dishonorable whose deeds were inevitably revealed, atlhough it wasn't always the case. Unbloods who acted dishonorably were generally spared death and abandoned to fend for themselves. They were still viewed as non-adults and thus could not be killed without breaking the Code.

The last such trial had not been too long ago, a painful memory, not just for himself - one he'd considered a hunt-brother had been exiled after their hunt for a ceremonial mask had resulted in the death of two adolescents. The circumstances had not mattered as much as the outcome.

On the other hand, blooded Ic'jit that made themselves known to many sain'ja at once, their dishonor agreed upon by those bearing witness, could simply be killed on the spot, as Hul'gkan had done to the guard who had harmed his former Trophy at the Abomination's behest.   
Elders like her held sway over such verdicts as well, and the witnesses had been plenty - none had intervened on the man's behalf, not even his guard partner.

Hul'gkan would not let himself fall to such fate. He knew in his hearts he'd acted Honorably… _most_ of the time…   
Being untruthful to his teacher still troubled him.

Iktaha'rg was free of suspicion as of yet, and had left word at the temple he taught at that he'd be going on a hunt as well.  
They would navigate in the general direction of his supposed destination, getting as close to their target habitable panet as the warp gates alowed and then jumping the rest of the way there with the ship IFF disabled.

They ran the risk of being branded an Ic'jit ship without proper identification, and subsequently shot upon by any of the allied Clan ships, but Iktaha'rg knew the sector was mostly barren and unmonitored. There were no patrols that way, most of them focused on maintaining security on points of interest in other areas.

 _Simple_. he mused to himself.   
They just had to pull it off.

Right now he was more concerned for Fire Eyes and if she would recover properly. There would be enough time in transit for her to mostly heal. Afterwards, she would have to fend for herself untill it was safe enough for one of them to retrieve her.   
Hul'gkan worried that she lacked the skills to survive alone for so long, despite the destination planet lacking any real predators. She could easily harm herself by accident, clumsy ooman that she was.

She'd managed on her own for two days, but hadn't hunted for food from what his scans showed. He knew she was capable of killing, or defending herself when pressed - if Kuj’hade's ruined eye was anything to go by - but could she hunt?   
He would have to train her in the time available, prepare tools for her use. Teach her how to preserve meat, not only procure it.  
He already felt the anxiety of too little time, worse now than when he was teaching her to speak.

The ping that announced they'd cleared Prime's Gate sounded from the cockpit, interrupting his thoughts.  
Once they passed their first gate, travel would be fairly straight-forward if all went to plan.

Only time would tell if they would be blessed with success. He believed in his goal, knew it to be righteous, but a small, selfish part of him hid behind the appeal to his honor.   
Would he act the same, had the Debt not been incurred?  
How far had he let this attachment to his former Trophy go?

It was already unbecoming to be so distraught over her injuries. True sain'ja had no weakness. Nothing that could be exploited. They did not fear for others. They did not… _regret_.

Hul'gkan shook his head, mangled tresses slapping against his neck. There was no point in having doubts now.  
His path was set. He would see it play out. Pay his Debt and work harder than ever to regain lost honor. 

A warrior's life was not easy. This was but another test laid by the gods to prove himself worthy.

\----------

She woke with a start to the smell of roasting meat and a deep, pulsing ache shuddering through her whole body.  
Jostling her injured arm made her groan in protest and curl up on her side, preventing her from jumping off the strangely familiar table and hiding behind the first solid object within reach.

Damn, it felt like she had shards of glass _digging_ into her socket!

She breathed through the pain and sat up in the closest approximation of a fetal position she could manage in her current state.

Allison rubbed her eyes open with her good hand, they were a little crusty and swollen but she noted she was clean of mud and blood and her injured arm was in a strange mesh-like sling that kept her shoulder from rotating too much, arm tightly tucked against her torso.

She peered around herself blearily, trying to piece together what the fuck had happened.

She knew this room…

  
Hopping off - and wincing at her throbbing ankle - she headed for the open doorway, following the scent of food that made her stomach gurgle insistently.

In the galley, she found none other than Hulk bending over his portable fire-pit, roasting a piece of meat on the tip of his dagger over the blue-ish flame.  
His head snapped up, as though he'd only now sensed her, and looked at her… sheepishly?   
Did his kind even _do_ that?

Allison owlishly blinked at the strange scene. There was a plate of vegetables and fruit already cleaned and ready on the table and another plate with a couple of pieces of roasted meat in varying degrees of charred black to almost raw sitting on it next to the fire pit.

His clicks were subdued, staring at her like he'd seen a ghost.  
She probably looked like crap. Full of bruises and insect bites and puffy eyes.   
Unwittingly, she let her loose hair, which was also suspiciously clean and now hanging unrestrained below her breasts, to swing forward and cover her face as she looked away.

The clicking got faster and a low rumble joined it, almost like a purr.

Allison didn't know how to react.   
He'd saved her life and patched her up and now she'd caught him in the middle of preparing food for her - it _couldn't_ be for anyone else, since he usually consumed his food raw.  
But he'd also been the one to bring her into this clusterfuck to begin with. The one who'd stolen her from her home to give her to a mad scientist to be tested on and used like a labrat.

Should she thank him? Curse him?   
Leave the room and refuse to even look at him?

Her stomach decided for her when it gave another loud gurgle and she plodded her way to the high table to perch at her usual seat.

Hulk goes silent and hands her the plate of meat and the utensil to cook more, then retreats to lean with the small of his back on the counter, giving her space.

Her hunger gets the better of her and she resolves to satiate it first, salvaging as much as she can from the charred meat and cooking the raw pieces better.  
He only watches silently, eyes roaming over her form.

She stops when she is halfway through her normal portion, her stomach already cramping at all the rich food after only days of nothing but rainwater.  
As much as she wants to gobble everything up, she knows taking it slow and eating small portions will be better for her in the long run.

Heavy footsteps come down the hallway and Allison rises from her seat, Hulk's dagger tightly gripped in her good hand at her side.   
Was this a trick after all? Had Hulk only rescued her to pay off his Debt then give her away to the cruel one or his leaders without so much of a fight?

Her death-grip loosens and she drops the dagger when Gramps comes through the wide arch separating the galley from the hallway.  
His face is just as she remembers it, ugly as sin and heavily scarred with waxy skin denoting burn-marks.

She laughs when she sees him, wether out of relief that she's not captured by someone worse or actual joy at the sight of an old, familiar presence is unclear. But she suddenly feels safe again and rushes forward to throw her good arm around his thick waist in an awkward, sideways hug.

It takes her a second to realize her flub and she quickly lets him go to back away a few steps and look up at him, smiling through her embarasment.

Gramps looks uncomfortable at first, shocked almost. But then a deep crocodile rumble vibrates through his chest and she gets the impression he's smiling back as he reaches out to playfully ruffle her hair and pat her head.

She doesn't even duck out like she used, enjoying the bit of positive contact while it lasts and letting him mess her hair up even more.   
Hulk chuffs at his elder in annoyance and the big guy chitters a laugh.

She never would have thought she'd be so happy to have these two around, but with an almost full belly, no muck cracking off her skin or excessive heat bringing her down she feels almost human again, even though she is in the company of beings that are nothing like her.

Dread creeps over her at the though of non-humans, she'd forgotten something important.

Both aliens rumble in question at her sudden change in mood, sensing her distress.

"Where's Spike?!" she asks, queasy with guilt.

\----------

  
Several Gate jumps later, in the time it takes the planet Earth to spin around it's axis approximately twenty times - somewhere in the deep-space of what humans call the Eridanus constellation, star system 82G, a mother ship that once belonged to the long extinct Tarutask'ctei Clan glides on the endless sea of void, monitoring activity in the nearby systems while it's minions hunt for fresh supplies to laden it with.

The solar system holds one life-bearing planet suitable for hunting. It harbors carbon based lifeforms, possesses liquid fresh water springs and a stable, nitrogen and oxigen rich atmosphere with a gravitational pull of 1.034g - although the only prey worth mentioning are large herbivorous creatures that graze the lichen and low-lying plant life growing from the porous coral remains of the realm's steppe.

The main continent is small, situated neatly between the ecuatorial ring and the North pole.   
Dry land comprises less than 15% of the planets surface, the rest being covered by a shallow ocean so saturated in sodium chloride and heavy metal deposits that barely anything manages to live in it. The creatures that do are hardy, mostly made up of algae-bacteria groupings of single cell organisms that gather together in large symbyotic mounds and the small invertebrate critters that eat them as well as bigger, flying animals that eat those.

The biodiversity of the planet is more than that, of course, but hunters rarely pay attention to anything that does not pose a challenge or is an edible resource.

Even the grazers are not worthy prey, stupid and slow, the only reason they are sought after is because of their meat. It grows plentiful on their hulking bodies and they are viewed purely as a source of food.

Still, the beings inhabiting the planet are an important resource to the hunters, keeping the Jag'd'dja atoll's expansive freezers full and its inhabitants well fed for the next span.

There are other systems where they hunt, a Clan of their size could easily empty the planet of life in but a few full rotations around its star and so it is imperative that they hold on to their future food reserves and allow the natural cycle of life to continue.

Helping conserve their livestock had gone a long way in assuring Akr'dtai's dominance over others. It, along with knowledge of the planet's location, is how he has won his place among the upper echelon of the Clan.   
Age is not a deciding factor here, only the value one brings, wether it is knowledge, martial superiority or wise counsel. 

Ic'jit they are called. Badbloods. Spoilt and corrupted, exiled from their birth or chosen Clans, shunned and hunted like ordinary, albeit much more dangerous, prey by their own kind.

Long ago, when the unwanted hunters were only scattered groupings of outlaws, ekeing out a pathetic existence alone, one hunter, the one who had found and defeated him as well, rose above all others, tracked down and united most present here.  
The Patriarch, he'd called himself - he would eventually become their equivalent to an Ancient.

Not all targets accepted the Patriarch's leadership. Many had been slain in stead of let themselves be led. But a few listened and obeyed, their numbers growing with each shunned hunter, swelling to their current size in just over fifty spans. 

He hadn't realized his luck at the time, still boiling with anger and hate at the betrayal, the _hypocrisy_ , of his exile. That only _he_ would be blamed, for something that had been an accident. His 'brothers' getting away, honor not even stained while he was stripped from Clan records and abandoned on a barren, toxic planet with no weapons or armor and only the mask to aid him in survival.  
Even his own sire had forsaken him. Not lifting one black claw in his defense. Not uttering one word of support.

Oh how he _hated_ the man!

Seething, he snarls at the aide attempting to bring him the account of their total gains. It was a good haul, but some of the carcasses brought in were not up to his standards, either too small to be a full adult or capable of bearing young. 

He chuckled behind his mask.

Nothing like a good beating to soothe his nerves and breaking bones _always_ improved his mood.   
Harsh 'discipline' was obligatory in their Clan. There was no place for failures or disobedience. Not when their survival depended on a set of very simple laws.

One could do as one pleased as long as they respected the few Clan rules - third of which was "Don't deplete our foodstores" which now included livestock.   
There was no Code of Honor impeding them, only what was necessary to assure they could survive as a group.

The mishaps weren't threatening to the overall population of the various herds, the grazers could survive even more hunting than this without damage to the variety in their gene-pool.   
But that was beside the point. He would find which idiots had broken the laws and break _them_ in turn. Even if he didn't identify the right ones, he'd make an example out of whoever had the worst atitute.

A ping interrupted his plans, bood-lust already setting his senses off.  
He willfully reigned himself in. It had been a while since he'd trained his patience and leashing his temper had never been something he'd excelled at. It was even more difficult now, after spans of disuse.  
Rage was a powerful weapon if one had the skill to harness it. He'd always excelled at that, but it did not serve him in situations like these, when he needed a level head. 

Perhaps he shouldn't have renounced the meditation techniques so readily. It took him a few precious seconds to shake the fury off and focus.

He recognized the sound, it was reserved for messages marked with high importance from the Patriarch himself.  
It was always best to respond to those in a timely manner, lest he lose his position in the pecking order by insulting the old man.

Opening the interface to his wrist gauntlet, an older model, scrapped together by their engineers - not as good as his original one but better than the big fat nothing most of his Clan had - he read the missive quickly, amber eyes scanning over the transmission report diagonally to get the general idea of it.

There was a lot of formerly unappreciated talent among their Clan.  
Ic'jit weren't made from birth. It could take hundreds of spans for one warrior to break the code and be caught doing it.  
Many of them were also warriors with some former repute, ones who did the dirty work for their respective Clans, ones who were already involved in questionable jobs and missions.  
Spies, saboteours and assassins roamed the halls of the mother ship. Doctors whose experiments went too far were few but present and hunters who liked killing a little too much and had a _flexible_ sense of Honor made up the majority.  
Engineers were scant, and highly sought after, but the ones they did have were quite resourceful, not only taking care of their ship and technology but developing new ways to keep their Clan safe from those who sought to end them.  
It was why the Mei'sha'dte Clan was the longest lived group of outlaws to date.

One method of protection was monitoring Gate jumps and bugging comm buoys.  
They were only one ship after all. If even one of the Allied or independent Clans came after them in force, they would quickly become debris.

It was fortunate that most of his kind rarely moved in a synchronous way. Hunters preferred to travel to Game planets alone or in smaller groups to win trophies and orbiting stations over important reserves tended to stay in the same area.

A buoy from a nearby system had pinged the passing of a ship signature he knew too well. He'd ridden on it for hunts before his exile, would have used it as a starting point for his chiva and had mistakenly thought he might even inherit it once the owner earned a higher status and more technology.  
That life was long shattered now and only his rage remained.

His sirer's ship was barely a few parsecs away, supposedly heading for a big game planet under his old Clan's jurisdiction, if the spoofed records were to be believed. 

It had yet to pass through to the more heavily monitored areas.   
If he hurried, he might just catch up to it in transit.

Strange that the old man would be circulating alone in this part of space, there wasn't anything of real note for the oh so great Warden to hunt in this region. The old man had never bothered killing just for food when there was plenty to be found on trophy-rich planets too. He distinctly remembered his sire being put off by the idea of being desperate enough to feed _only_ on unworthy prey.

The pompous ass would be absolutely disgusted by what his son had become, what he'd been _forced_ to do merely to survive.  
The desire to rub that in his face and then kill the man was strong.  
How fortunate that the opportunity had presented itself now, when his blood-lust had surfaced like a ravenous beast.

The Patriarch knew of his parentage, it was difficult to escape his sirer's heavy shadow even in exile, and must have been feeling charitable this rotation. The message even had access codes to a stolen Arbitrator fighter vessel attached, not their only one, but the most intact.

Clashes with Arbitrators were costly and frequent for BadBloods hunting on their own. Only very few returned alive, but those who did sometimes managed to bring back the best trophy of all - advanced and working technology and military grade arsenals of weapons and armor.  
The Arbitrator's ship was the ultimate prize, provided it did not self-destruct beforehand.

This would likely be his only chance at revenge, deemed an unworthy act by the Code but so very _satisfying_ to enact.   
It was a boon from the universe. An invitation to revel if he'd even seen one.

He almost thanked the Black Hunter for dropping this on his lap, but shunned the thought as it formed.

There was no Honor no matter how much his kind insisted on it. The Code was nothing but an uncomfortable pebble on the path to true enlightenment.  
As the Patriarch taught - Death was _absolute_ , satisfaction at dominating everything else was all one had until their time was up.

He would take it.  
And savor the kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> c'jit = shit (expletive)
> 
> mei-hswei= brother
> 
> Ic'jit = Badbloods
> 
> sain'ja = warrior/hunter
> 
> Tarutask'ctei Clan = swift and silent footed / wraith steps / Wraiths of the Planes Clan
> 
> Jag'd'dja atoll = Mother ship
> 
> Akr'dtai = Explosive Fighter/one who leaps into a fight quickly
> 
> Mei'sha'dte Clan = Invader Clan
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N  
> So we got a new character. I've been hinting at his existence since the first arc and people have been asking about Hulk's backstory.
> 
> Your patience has paid off, hope you like him!
> 
> Kinda have a LOT of infodumping this chapter, hope it's not too dense.


	19. Bad to the bone

Yet again, life on an alien ship with Hulk and Gramps as her only companions was a gotdamn fucking chore.

Hulk was back on his training bullshit and had her running around and doing all sorts of weird stuff like climbing on crates and vertical struts one handed, or showing her how to to dry meat (the ship, and her hair especially, _still_ smelled faintly of smoke and jerky).   
He taught her how to use a small knife to clean meat off bones and made her swing and throw a staff almost half as much taller than her.

Predictably, she sucked at everything, in no small part due to her still aching arm, which was healing ridiculously fast and still hurt like a bitch, but also because she'd never done any of this in her entire life and he was giving her the extremely accelerated version.

The only thing she was not awful at was throwing knives, except they were a little too big for her and sometimes she'd cut her hand open gripping the blade wrong. Damn things were sharper than razor blades.

Strangely, Hulk no longer resorted to smacking her upside the head at every mistake or grumbled swear. In fact, he was behaving oddly distant and unusually calm around her.   
And he was _moody_ , fixing her with a long, angry stare when she'd asked what had crawled up his ass and died.  
His insistence on her learning the finer points of laying traps and his stubborn refusal to talk about what was chasing them, because why _else_ would they be in such a hurry, gave her wicked anxiety.

Gramps wasn't like his old self either, not as quick to joke or tease either of them, almost broody in his silence. Although he'd taken to patting her head more often at every little success. And she'd catch him staring at her sometimes too, his harsh face stoic, expression unreadable but somehow melancholic.

She missed Spike a lot, the guilt at having failed the only unconditional ally and friend she'd had this whole time eating at her even in sleep.  
Gramps had explained that the hound was off on another ship with the big red one but Hulk stopped him from talking further on the matter, wether because it was uncertain the frog-dog would live or he didn't want her knowing about something remained a mystery.  
She'd stormed out of the galley after that, and sequestered herself to cry in the medbay untill falling into exhausted sleep.

She was tired more often than not, the stress of the past and their strange behaviour grating on her nerves and whittling down her fleeting sense of safety.  
Cagey hunter aliens _always_ meant trouble. She knew that better than anyone.

There was no time to get bored, the little free time she had when she wasn't sleeping or cleaning up after another gruelling day of exercise and survival training, she would spend in the cockpit, staring out as stars passed by or admiring the colorful marble-like planets whenever they slowed down and passed one.   
Gramps, unexpectedly, always made sure she had a break during those short windows of realigning the ship to enter a different Gate after the first time he'd come to the helm and found her weeping softly, hands splayed over the cold 'glass' while looking out at the most beautiful blue, green and swirling white planet she'd ever seen. It wasn't like Earth at all, but it was the closest thing she had.

Hulk had tried to argue against it, citing lack of time as a reason with a desperate edge to his voice, but the older alien had cut him off and grumbled something she couldn't quite hear that convinced the younger one to nod and let her go.

  
She was admiring a beautiful red and orange gas giant, with multiple storms peppered over its surface like dark blue polka dots of varying sizes, when she felt a presence behind her.

Shifting her attention off the thick, smoky line of yellow trailing between two vortexes that vaguely resembled eyes in how they were placed on the giant, she spied Hulk's bulk reflected where the void dominated the window.

He was shifting nervously from one foot to another, tusks clicking faintly.  
She refused to acknowledge him, letting him stew a little while she watched the planet go by, half of it lit by the distant, bright white star it orbited.

  
He started doing that unfairly pleasant low trill that always reminded her of a deep crocodile purr in his chest, unmasked jade eyes fixing her with an insistent stare.

"What do you _want_? I still have a couple of minutes." she gritted out, reluctant to turn away from the beautiful display.

The purring deepened, vibrating through her whole body as he took the last few steps to stand next to her.  
The warmth of his bulk felt stifling and she slid sideways to give herself more space, away from the hypnotic rumbles that were slowly soothing her anger and anxiety.  
Bastard knew she was in a foul mood and was trying to sweeten her up.   
She'd been openly disdainful of his secrecy for a while now. He always pulled this shit when she was just about to start chucking things at his head and demand an explanation.

"Well?" she huffed and crossed her arms as the gas giant slid out of view, still staring out at empty space in stead of meeting his eyes.   
It was freaky how he kept consistent eye contact now. It went against everything he'd taught her before.

<<You have learned a great deal in the short time we have travelled.>> he said, voice particularly rumbly with that purring undertone. <<You should be sufficiently ready.>>

"Prepared…?" she asks after a moment digesting his words. "For what?"

The ship cants to her left, artificial gravity catching up to it a second later. She hangs on to the frame of the 'window' while Hulk only bends his knees, strong calf muscles flexing under his dark-green skin.  
Who would have thought you'd need sea-legs on a space ship.  
The sudden image of Hulk with a leather eye-patch and a big silly hat flashes through her mind, making her smile despite still being pissed at him. Would he wear the loose shirt and tight pants too? 

His beady eyes squint at her as though he knows she's up to no good. Fortunately, after all the mental insults she'd directed at him and others in the past without repercussion, she knew these aliens were not telepathic. 

  
<<Go speak to her in the galley, I must attend to the vessel.>> Gramps clicks from behind, startling both of them. The old man was sneakier than he looked.

She follows Hulk out, eyes lingering on Gramps as he takes the pilot's chair and brings up an interface, large, scaly hand sliding over symbols with practiced ease.

There is a sweet smell in the air as they near the galley, Hulk perks up before she even registers it.

A rounded, dark object is sitting on the table when they enter. Hulk opens it with a slide of his hand over the top and hums in pleasure at the aroma wafting up. It kind of smells like freshly made plum jam.

She peeks over his elbow at the still bubbling concoction - a brownish, chunky goop - and backs away with a disgusted sound.

"What aren't you telling me?" Allison asks, taking a seat as the big guy dunks one of their big cups in the goop and takes a hearty swig.  
She tries not to gag. Of course the only cooked alien food looks like sewage, even if it _smells_ divine.

He clicks in aggravation and places another full cup in front of her, taking a deep breath and seating himself next to her - once again uncomfortably close. She scoots away to the edge of the bench while he reattaches the lid to the fancy pot.

<<There will be… a trial, soon.>> he rumbles. <<You have an important role.>>

She waits for him to continue, knee bouncing nervously under the table. He's taking care to speak slowly, so that she understands.

He turns his big head at her, looking first at the cup then meeting her eyes expectantly.  
She takes a hold of the cup, bringing it closer to her face and reluctantly takes a sip at his prompting silence.

The stuff's surprisingly good, a kind of fruit stew. A little spicy. Pity it doesn't pass the bucket test. Had Gramps made it for them? She'd never had anything like it planet-side. 

He nods and drinks from his own container, delaying his answers even more.

"What do you want me to do?" she can't resist asking. There's no way this doesn't have something to do with what they've been so dodgy about. 

<<Survive first. Be truthful when the time comes.>>

<<Survive?>> the word is out before she knows it. She's had her fill of surviving. She wants to _live_!

He hums in confirmation.

"Why won't you just _tell_ me what's going on?"

<<This is all you need to know. _Focus_ on it.>> he stands, chugging back the last of his drink.

"To _hell_ with that!" she yells and slams her big cup on the table, sloshing its contents on the gray surface. "How can I know what to do if I don't have any information?! Last time you threw me into something blind, _both_ of us almost _died_!" she pushes herself up, not wanting to be looked down on.

Hulk rumbles and clicks rapidly in anger but doesn't roar like he used to, there's something like shame in his jade eyes when he looks away first.

Allison feels a strange surge of regret dampening her fury after the outburst. Whatever's going on, she knows Hulk is likely the only one on her side. She knows she shouldn't drive her only ally away, but at the same time, she's so confused and terrified, lashing out is all that's left.

"Why was that guy after me?! And what does -" <<Council of Ancients>> she chokes out awkwardly "- mean? You're _scared_ of them!"

Hulk puffs up like she'd just insulted his mother, clicking menacingly.  
<<I am not - >>

" _Yes_ you are! So is Gramps. You're both acting like everything's fine, but it's _not_! I know I'm just a dumb primitive to you, but I'm not _that_ stupid!" she curses and scratches at her messy hair, probably tearing out some strands in her frustration.   
The threat of tears stings up her nose and eyes and she needs to look away. It is a weakness she refuses to show _him_ most of all.

"I _hate_ this…" she mutters, clenched fists trembling. "I hate having to depend on you for everything. I hate this ship. I hate all the things you put me through. I hate y…" she stops with a strained hiccough before finishing the sentence.   
The truth is, she still needs him, no matter how much she hates it, he's still her only chance to make it out of whatever this new mess is.   
She doesn't know if she actually hates _him_ , though, despite all the pain and fear he's caused.

There is silence for a time, then that soothing rumble starts again, very close, and she feels the heat of his strange alien body closer then ever.

  
Calloused, rough hide touches under her chin as he slowly lifts her face up. The tears have escaped in spite of her best efforts, spilling out of the corners of her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.  
The pad of a large thumb wipes across her cheekbones, smearing the hot tears as it passes, dark claw carefully kept away from her skin.

<<You are not stupid.>> he rumbles quietly. << _Foolish_ sometimes, but not stupid.>>

The admission has her blinking in confusion, a few more errant tears falling and being dashed away as gently as before. Normally, having him this close would be a cause for concern but she remains as she is, staring up into those impossibly green eyes.

<<And you will be rid of me soon.>> his hand falls away, leaving her strangely unsatisfied.

"What does that -"

The ship shudders beneath her feet, the heat fixtures set along the perimeter of the room changing intensity and color and then shutting off completely as she squeaks in surprise.

Hulk puts a steadying hand on her shoulder, grumbling <<Too soon.>> under his tusks when she feels the artificial gravity fade off and her body being lifted off solid ground. She instinctively flails in fright with a yelp.

Strong arms reach behind her back and under her knees, her shoulder and arm coming into contact with a very solid, fish-net covered chest.  
The weightlessness makes her queasy and she struggles not to hurl the bit of fruit stew she'd indulged in back up. Her fingers instinctively grip between the holes of mesh on his chest for extra security.

As fast as it went, the gravity and dim lights power back up and her stomach settles.  
Somehow, Hulk had been holding onto the metal flooring with the claws on his toes and slowly stands back on his heels.

Anxiety sweat wets her armpits and the back of her neck - if having him be close enough to touch her face was unsettling and oddly pleasant, getting carried like a princess was absolutely nerveracking.   
She was used to him throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes if he wanted to transport them both somewhere fast. That was mostly impersonal, still scary, but not quite as… _intimate_.

Allison is suddenly reminded of their pool wrestle some time ago. The way his body had hovered over hers, hips touching, his hand lightly, but firmly holding down her chest as they both panted for breath. That unwanted zing of heat tickling in her belly, making her blush.  
Her heart gives a little flutter when he squeezes her as the walls clang and buzz.

She gulps, mouth suddenly dry and tries not to move, muscles tensing as though getting ready to run.

Hulk's still cussing Gramps for the mess on the table, her neglected cup of stew had spilled all over the place, then he looks back down at her.   
The proximity of his big face, sharp teeth and tusks at eye level, to her own makes her tense even more, heart pumping madly.   
She's pretty sure she sees him _taste_ the air as those very sharp tusks grind together, her momentary scientific observation only a minor distraction from the Very Sharp Fucking Tusks near her eyeballs.

She licks her lips and swallows again, unsure wether to continue being as still as possible or if punching her way out of this is the best approach.

Fortunately, Hulk puts her down before she does something she might regret and she immediately hops away, finally breathing in relief.  
She clears her throat, questions forgotten for now, and loudly announces she'll clean the spillage up.

Hulk only watches her, head tilted with an oddly perplexed frown on his crabby face.

\----------

  
His quarry had decelerated and, for a few fleeting heartbeats, had dissapeared from his display.  
Undeterred, he cycled through sensors untill the ship appeared again as a minuscule distortion in space.

Yaut'ja ships were hard to detect, possessing not only cloaking technology to become invisible to most beings with visual organs but made of veritanium alloys that masked their presence from most sensory technology. Without the IFF transmission codes, they were almost invisible.

It was his luck that he'd been close enough, and knew its last coordinates, to spot the uncloaked ship with the surveillance cameras his plundered Arbitrator ship was equipped with.

_Now why would Iktaha'rg turn off his identifying signal?_ he mused, rubbing under his masked chin in consideration.

Had the old man detected him? It was highly unlikely, but possible.

He could not imagine Iktaha'rg ever running away from Prime. Then again, his presence in this part of space was suspect to begin with.

He watched as the ship floated, the inertia from its flight continuing to shift it forward.   
But why was it moving away from the next Gate that would take it closer to its destination?  
He knew the ship was capable of small jumps on it's own, but it could not traverse long distances alone, and it took a lot of fuel and energy to travel - a problem the exile's mothership had to contend with all the time.  
  
The network of Gates linking known space were so old, they predated the oldest intact pyramids on Prime and were though to have been created by the yaut'ja who had first left their home planet for better prospects across the galaxy. 

This gift from their ancestors was closed off to those like him, guarded by heavily armed stations that protected them from the unworthy primitives and Ic'jit alike.

The ship's engines were beginning to shine with the incipient glow of a self-powered jump. Wherever his sire was going, he would lose his opportunity to strike if he did not act now.  
Arming his Arbitrator fighter's plasma casters would immediately give his position away, but he had no other option.  
He could not let this opportunity slip by him.

There were only two viable solar systems within jumping distance, either where the Mother ship was preparing to depart, or the Sol system. Neither option bode well for him.   
If Iktaha'rg discovered his Clan ship, he may just escape to reveal their position.   
The Sol system was a central point for chivas. He'd been considering infiltrating the planet to earn his own hardmeat trophy, a right that had been denied to him upon exile yet still brought hunters esteem in the Mei'sha'dte Clan but he was not prepared for it yet. Trailing after an approved hunt and evading the Youngbloods required skill and technology.  
He had yet to acquire all the necessary gear - trading for a cloaking unit required more valuables than he had. 

Perhaps simply downing the ship and looting what was left would suffice. Or luck would be on his side and he'd find a working unit on his father's charred and frozen corpse.

It was an ignominious end for Iktaha'rg. Whatever sense of honor Akr'dtai had left urged against a cowardly execution.  
The old man wouldn't even know who killed him, and that… _mattered_.

The young man nervously shifted in his seat, consumed by indecision as his enemy's ship lit up on his display.

  
There was no more time to dawdle, he pressed the series of buttons necessary to arm his weapons and ran full speed at the speck of light.

\----------

The galley still smelled like plum jam but she'd done a good enough job of cleaning up most of the muck. Hulk had stepped out in the meantime, heading for the cockpit.   
Her cheeks were burning, all thought of demanding answers had just flown right out.   
She'd have to pester him later, right now she was too busy going 'whatthefuck' in her own head.

Allison had had some stupid crushes in her youth, but those were mostly because they were hot - so she couldn't understand her body's strange reaction.  
Sure, he was built like Superman, could be surprisiningly kind and gentle when the mood struck him, had saved her life several times and indulged her mercurial moods even though he could snap her in half at any time. But he was still an alien.  
A very big, muscly alien.  
And his face looked straight out of a horror movie, with sharp teeth and weird mouth-parts. Not exactly the kind of face she'd be able to sit on and... nono, she did _not_ just think about -

She banged her head on the underside of the table getting up right when the ship groaned and the floor moved from under her, throwing her several feet away on her ass.

Angry growls echoed down the corridor as she fought the dizziness and got back on her feet, immediately stumbling and grabbing onto the bottom of the arched entryway to keep from being pinballed against every surface in the room as the heat lights turned red and a deep crack reverberated through the whole ship.

There was a continual hissing noise which cut off abruptly as more growls and barked orders came from the cockpit. Hulk appeared just as she was huddling in a corner and grabbed her like a fleshy little ball, carrying her to the helm where she was swiftly deposited in one of the passenger seats and strapped in.  
Somehow he'd traversed the distance without falling, hitting himself or crushing her to the metal walls while the ship spun and bucked around them like an angry steed, nimbly leaping from one point to another, circling the hall upside-down at one point, as Allison hung onto his neck for dear life. 

Gramps was already strapped into his pilot's chair, big hands dancing over the controls as he maneuvered the ship.  
Warnings sounded from several places - it was nothing like the blaring alarms in action movies, these were just tones and sometimes low robotic words calmly announcing issues.  
She'd never though she'd hear the digitized voice again, this time speaking in their own language. She hadn't missed it one bit.

Her brain felt like those jelly tubes she'd get for Halloween when she was little. Her family didn't celebrate it normally but most of her friends at school did and she liked shaking the eyeballs in the small green box till the green gelatine around it started seeping out.

<<We've been hit, how soon can we jump?>> Hulk rattled from beside her, sounding agitated while he fixed his pewter mask over his face.  
He'd strapped himself in the seat next to her in stead of on the other side of the entrance like he used to.  
She was pretty panicked herself. Not freaking out yet, her body's response to shock seemed to be 'freeze' for now.

<<Soon. Engines are almost done warming up. Only a glancing blow, there's a hull breach in the cargo hold and one tyioe-ti ripped off. Sealed access off.>> Gramps calmly replied as he continued fiddling with his console.  
Were all hunters this chill during attacks?

Another groan vibrated through the ship and she screamed as they were all flung forward, the straps across her chest slamming into her and ending her panicked screech with a choke.

<<We can't take much more of this!>> Hulk growled, pressing with the back of his hand against her sternum. She reflexively grabbed it with both of hers and squeezed, trying to control her breathing. Her clavicles hurt.

Gramps only chuffed, dismissing several prompts as they popped before him and pressing a series of symbols into an input box.

<<An arbitrator ship…>> the big man murmurs, enhancing an image.

Allison's heart is hammering so hard it feels as though it might leap out of her chest. She can see part of the image. A still of another space-ship, the hologram showing an overlayed mapping of both red heated hues and a colored picture that she can understand. It looks compact, more streamlined than their own and dark even in the full glare of the white sun. 

<<Already? How can that be?>> Hulk asks, his unnerved tone scaring her even more.

<<We have to change course. It can hunt us alone.>>

Urgent beeps sound from the console, a small, simplified diagram shows several spherical objects and two red-hot points separated by one of the spheres. She can only assume the three dimensional map signifies their sector of space, with the gas giant sitting between their red point and the slightly more orange asshole shooting at them.  
A line of white is already racing in an arc around the gas giant towards them.

<<The ship can't take another hit. We need to _go_!>> Hulk says, his hand now holding one of hers, enveloping it completely. It is very large, calloused and warm. <<She will not survive the decompression!>>

Gramps makes another incomprehensible noise, checking behind him with a backwards glance. He too has his toothy mask on.

<<Deploying heat mines.>> The robotic voice announces as the ship rattles again then throws her into the gell-like cushioning of the chair so hard she almost passes out.

The ship surges forward, the hologram seems to bleed and she catches a glimpse of a net-like construct behind their representation on the image catching the bead of light just in time before all light seems to fade as they leave it behind.

Her vision narrows and her peripherals fade to a dull red throbbing collor while the void and stars in front of her stretch.  
At first it is similar to small streetlights going past her lateral mirror when she'd drive at nigh, then it looks as though tiny stars are falling. They quickly become elongated then impossibly thin streams of light.

The elephant on her chest becomes heavier the thinner the light gets. Hulk's hand is no longer clutched in front of her but somehow both her hands are neatly tucked at her sides, so very heavy - refusing to move.   
There is a growing lack of senses around her. She cannot feel the chair under her. Cannot feel the mesh on her skin.

She can't turn her head either. All she sees in front of her, as her eyes dry and tears are pressed out of her eyes so fast they don't even leave a wet trail before falling sideways behind her, is darkness and light - distorted.   
She cannot blink. The urge to do so exists, nagging at her to close her eyes, get relief, but her eyelids remain stubbornly fixed.

The small bit of Gramps' pilot's seat is only a diffuse sort of shadow at the corner of her eye.   
The ship's viewport also stretches sideways and narrows in front of her, as if solid physical objects are nothing more than playdough.

She cannot grasp the passing of time, they could be slipping through it like this for a fraction of a second or a lifetime. 

Eventually, when the weight on her chest is finally lessening and her lids can slowly, so slowly, begin to close, when the streams of light fragment and the calming darkness evelopes them once more, they exit the wormhole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> Ic'jit = BadBlood(s)
> 
> tyioe-ti = escape pod/drop pod
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> The fruit stew is named s'pke.
> 
> I'll be on holiday next week, so I probably won't have much time to write.   
> I'll try to get back on schedule two weeks from now, but no promises. 
> 
> Hope you liked the little tease there ehehehe.


	20. Mountain at my gates

About halfway between the orbital path of Jupiter and the asteroid belt of the Sol system, a ship stretches into being like a snapped piece of rubber, coming in like a fine blur of sand in roiling waters then materializing into its normal, albeit damaged, shape once more.

The previously absent sound - how had she not noticed the _hollowness_ of it al, how soundless and alone she'd been, trapped only with light and non-light - comes back all at once, echoes of it reaching her ears as if the noise that was stolen during transit must come back now or be lost forever.  
Her heart, which had felt still as a stone before, begins beating wildly once again as she gasps for breath, lungs burning, blood rushing to her ears.

The cacophony of feeling, sound, colors, smells - there was no smell there either - touch and taste return as her nails dig into the gel holding her, creasing it under her palms. She can taste her own mouth again, a little bitter and sweet, unpleasantly dry.

Allison chokes on her own spit, which had gathered at the back of he throat, and coughs something faintly pink. It feels like she hasn't breathed in forever. Her lungs are like dusty crypts, reopend after thousands of years of stillness.

She can feel Hulk's heat beside her as he pats her bent back. The feeling of another's skin is somehow both new and old.

The robotic voice announces <<Destination reached.>> and Gramps presses yet more buttons, still cool as a cucumber, as if he's done this so many times he's bored of it.

  
Allison wipes at her mouth, she'd started salivating and sweating profusely, her eyes blurred with tears as her ragged breathing calms.   
There's a deep half-stuttered rumble vibrating up her back where Hulk's touching her, although she can't hear it properly over the beeps and her own harried pulse. 

"Wh… th'fuhck…" she manages to huff out, her own voice ringing in her head funny.

<<Elder.>> Hulk sounds pretty hoarse himself. It's a little comforting to know she wasn't the only one so affected.  
<<This is not where ->>

<<Our… pursuer was no Arbitrator. I know that ship, it belonged to an old friend.>> Gramps growls, irritatingly smooth. <<It could follow us where we were going, but not here.>>

Allison looks between the two aliens as Hulk perks up. <<Can we land undetecte ->>

He is interrupted by another shrill warning. Both aliens cuss as a new, deep voice growls throughout the ship.

<<Unidentified vessel. Power down your engines now or you will be destroyed.>> it warns.   
Allison snorts a half-hysterical laugh, _of course_ they'll be destroyed. It's not like they haven't almost been destroyed just before that horrible jump.

Gramps obeys, lights dimming, but opens a communication channel, announcing his name and his space ship's identification numbers. She recognizes the ritual from last time, except now the greeter is far less welcoming.

There is a staticky silence from the other end and some unintelligible alien noises and clicks.

Her eyes drift back out the cockpit window, trying to take in anything that isn't the darkness of space. She knows they are in another star system, judging by the bright speck ahead. She can't spot any planets yet though, just a thready almost straight line expanding from the upper right side of the oval window to the opposite lower left one, seemingly infinite.

<<We were not expecting you Warden Iktaha'rg.>> another voice comes on, more mature sounding.

<<Is that you, Taan'Dtkai? I thought I had you watching the hunting grounds, not patrolling the asteroid belt.>> Gramps chitters.

<<The season for hunts has yet to come again. I had thought to ferry out some scurrying Badbloods. There has been a surge of activity in other sectors. You always did lecture us about caution and the laws of probability.>> the other voice responds in a similarly friendly tone, trilling a laugh towards the end.  
<<It is good to hear from you, Head Warden. But what brings you here? And why is your ship silent?>>

Allison gulps, gripping her thighs, Hulk touches the back of his forefinger over her white knuckles to keep her from making any noise.

<<Ah, you are more right about those Ic'jit than you know. Had to dodge one in a stolen military ship just now.>> Gramps says nonchalantly, as though they hadn't almost been blown to smithereens five minutes ago... or however long that torture had been, she has no sense of the time spent there, only the terror at the absence of everything.

<< _Filthy exiles_ , I'll have a party sent to hunt them. I see you took a hit too. It would be my honor to host you while my engineers repair your ship.>> the other man says and Hulk shakes his head.

<<My thanks. But that will not be neccessary. The damage is not so extensive and I have business on N'ithya.>>

Another bout of silence has her sweating bullets, Hulk's hand still lingering over her own while Gramps is eerily still.

<<I was not notified of any activity - >>

<<Did I not make myself _clear_?>> the big man growls imperiously, and she feels herself tremble at the menacing authority.  
She very much wants to be as far away from him as possible but the belts looping around her, keeping her from floating off into the room, restrain her.

<<… as you say, Warden. But at least allow two of my fighters to escort you untill orbit.>>

<<Very well.>> the old alien nods and cuts the connection.

Allison itches to get out of her restraints, but it takes a little while longer before the power can be turned back on to the rest of the ship and for the artificial gravity to return.  
The robotic voice gives a list of damage at Hulk's prompting, starting with the most severe - the hull breach in the cargo hold, cracks and burns of the outer shell, a lost escape pod and a dangerously low level of fuel.

She waits, muscles twitching despite Hulk's warm hand on her shoulder and his soothing rumbles.  
As soon as she is free, she dashes out of the chair and runs for the bathroom to relieve herself. The fact that she managed not to soil the seat or hurl up her guts is a small miracle.

\----------

Navigating the asteroid belt is a trifle matter once the fighters flank their vessel, guiding them through the ever shifting corridors of safety, easily calculated by the ship's navigational system.   
They will reach the planet shortly.

He tries to convince little Fire Eyes to join them in the cockpit again, hoping the sight of her homeworld would lift her spirits, but is met with resolute denials.

There is no time to waste on soothing the little ooman, and he chastises himself for even trying.   
His behaviour still puzzles him. He'd never been this concerned over another of his kind, even young pups. 

Everyone's first jump, even a short 5 span shift like this one, was a disconcerting matter. The folding of space affected even seasoned warriors and everyone had variable sensitivity towards it. Some treated it as a mere inconvenience, while others could become physically ill for long periods of time.  
It was still unknown exactly what caused the extreme reactions, but the benefit of travel far outweighed any temporary ailment.

He'd hoped the s'pke would help calm her innards enough to bear the displacement with some dignity, but perhaps oomans simply reacted differently.

Hul'gkan returns to the cockpit alone to find Iktaha'rg grumbling at his controls as the blue planet grows larger before them.

<<You are displeased.>> Iktaha'rg states, not turning from his work as Hul'gkan approaches the pilot's seat silently.

He doesn't answer, crossing his arms and shifting visual modes to see the planet. It is beautiful from up here, but he knows the ecosystem is degrading with rapid pollution and overheating.

<<Was this not your first request? That little Fire Eyes be returned to her homeland were you to perish?>> Iktaha'rg asks gravelly, a note of unexplained anger in his growls.

<<It was.>> he acquiesces.

<<But it does not satisfy now that you are _alive_ to witness it?>> the Elder hisses testily. <<It will be more difficult to track her down and retrieve her for the trial, but Thei'dteinou should manage it. Or do you doubt your brother's skills?>> he taunts, true venom hiding behind his usual teasing tone.

<<Never.>> Hul'gkan denies. <<… but what if…>> he trails off, shaking his tresses.

<< _Speak_ , boy. Do not let doubts weaken you.>> Iktaha'rg lectures.

<<What if she refuses to leave. This is her home… You have seen how she has longed for it.>> he confesses.

His teacher is quiet for a long moment while Hul'gkan paces behind the pilot's seat.

<<Then I will retrieve her myself.>> the Elder states, and Hul'gkan can hear all the spans of hunts behind the words. The old man has yet to fail. His record is flawless. <<You will not perish for lack of witness, I _promise_ you that.>>

<<It is not the trial that concerns me.>> the young man grits out, a little insulted that his teacher would think him fearful.  
<<My Dept to her… I could not bring her here myself but now she would have the right to ask that I release her as soon as we set foot on the planet…>>

<< _I_ have no Dept to her.>> Iktaha'rg grumbles. <<And you can release her after all the politicking is done.>> his former teacher waves a hand dismissively.

Hul'gkan hums to himself, annoyed at the interruption and the implied threat to Ah-lee as he leaves the cockpit behind.   
The Elder speaks true, but there is still the uncomfortable prospect of allowing Fire Eyes the freedom she asked for, only to snatch it away again, no matter how temporary her captivity during trial would be, provided all goes well.

He knows it is safer for her to be with her own kind for a time, safer even than a remote planet in the middle of nowhere, considering Ic'jit roam the area.  
Here she would be out of the Desert Clan's clutches. No ooman hunting is allowed without a permit from the Clans overseeing the respective hunting grounds and their Clan Leader would never permit strangers on their patch of land.  
Sending infiltrators and risking a serious inter-Clan conflict for a primitive would also be deeply unwise as well.

But something still feels wrong - _cruel_ even.  
He would have to explain what would happen, see her squishy face brighten at the prospect of freedom only to crumble in disappointment at finding it limited and thus nothing but a lie.

He'd wanted her to focus on her own survival, a sort of trial to prove to others she was as worthy as he knew her to be. Have a taste of hunting on a planet that wouldn't kill her _just_ for being a primitive. It was why he'd kept the true danger of their endeavor a secret, to spare her the distraction, the inevitable fear. Allow her to grow and practice the skills he'd taught at her own pace.

But on N'ithya she would likely go back to the sprawling, toxic city he'd taken her from, neglect her training in favor of whatever oomans did in stead of the Hunt. Stray from the Path to Honor she'd taken her first tentative steps on.

Forget everything that tied her to him... forget _him_ as well…

The realization strikes him as though the anvil his bearer used to beat veritanium plates on had been dropped over his head.   
Behind his lofty aspirations to honor, to the payment of his Dept, stood nothing but utter, underserved _selfishness_.   
It was a weakness to desire such things, moreso if it involved a primitive.

Hul'gkan clicks at himself in anger, shaking off the slithering disgust at his own thoughts.  
Still, admitting to one's feelings and wants was the initial step in defeating the fault.  
He'd always been trained to be true to himself first and foremost. No warrior could prevail if they were at conflict with themselves. Doubt and indecisiveness had to be removed for the mind to be at peace, to allow rationality to prevail.

The instinctive denial and shunning of that shameful part of himself had to be put aside.

He had to admit, if only to his own consciousness, that he cared for little Ah-lee. That her thoughts and feelings mattered to him in a way no one else's ever had.

He still feels the sting of her unspoken words before the spatiotemporal shift.  
At the time, he'd thought it only a slip of her anger.

Witnessing her fiery temper was usually an amusing occurence, it reminded him of a small species of flyers on Prime he used to hunt for their tasty eggs as a child, how they would screech, chirp and dive at his tresses to distract him from their nest as though they weren't the size of his palm and easily crushed.   
Her clever tongue and piercing eyes could account for the little avians' poison-tipped claws and stubborn determination to scratch as close to the root of his tresses as it could get - damn thing stung right where the skin was more sensitive. Just like Fire Eyes always aimed for weak spots, either physically _or_ verbally.

The thought that Ah-lee may truly hate him had never really been actualized untill her mournful rant sapped the fury from her eyes and replaced it with saddened moisture that made him detest himself for causing it.

He had despised every moment of being trapped under that blasted net, of being kept at the Pyramid of Judgement, of depending on Iktaha'rg to get him out. Why would she feel any different of his dominion?

It wasn't the same, but he could understand her frustration. She was not a simple animal or even just a primitive, with simple needs and minds.   
In fact, he hadn't been treating her as a mere pet long before she'd earned his Debt of Honor.

He cursed under his breath, it seemed ration only brought more wretchedness than relief.  
He had to compose himself. There was still a trial that needed to take place and he would not dishonor those who had aided him so far by making any rash decisions now.

Taking a deep breath, he feels the ship rattle as it enters N'ithya's atmosphere, the torn, jagged edges of the damaged hull dragging through the air. With any luck the daytime would hide any suspicious luminescence and mask it as a simple falling meteorite.

He steels himself for the conversation to come, heading once more to where he can already hear her noises of distress.

\----------

Allison screamed and cursed when the ship began groaning like an angry bear again. It had started with a quietly ominous rumble that suddenly turned terrifyingly loud as her ears popped with increased air pressure before subsiding to a continuous rattle.

  
She was running for the cockpit in case they had to strap in again when Hulk appeared and she calmed down seeing he was in no hurry and had removed his mask to hang it at the hook of his belt again.

She heard the clicks as he opened his mouth to speak, but another warning blared and the same mature voice from before growled << _Cease!_ >> in an urgent tone.

<<Elder Warden Iktaha'rg, I cannot permit you to land! By order of Arbitrator Kuj’hade, representative of the Council of Ancients, you will allow your vessel to be boarded, the fugitives be retrieved for judgement and all property be seized. Do not resist or you _will_ be fired upon.>> it continued.

The clicking above her got louder, she had been so focused on what the voice was saying that she hadn't felt Hulk creep up on her and flinched when he grabbed her by the arm to pull her the rest of the way to the cockpit.

<<No need for that, Taan'Dtkai.>> the older alien replied, voice smooth with assurance. <<You'll give the Clanship away with those thermal signatures.>>

Hulk growls and there's a clicking pause on the other end of the connection.

<<I am glad you see reason, Elder. The Honorable Arbitrator _requested_ a preemptive strike but _he_ is not acting Captain of this ship. I do not wish to have to shoot my superior out of the sky…>> the other voice growls angrily. 

<<Then don't.>> Gramps quips and turns off the connection with flick of his wrist.

The ship bucks and groans deeper as gravity is shifted suddenly and they both go sideways. Hulk's back and shoulder hit the left wall as he growls in annoyance and she stumbles right along with him, ricocheing a little off his chest. Good thing he wasn't wearing full armor or she might've lost a tooth.

<<Elder!>> Hulk bellows above her head, drowning out the distressed whale noises of the space-ship as he curls his claws over a support strut to keep them both in place while the other arm presses her to his front.  
Allison's ear was stuck against his chest and she could feel the vibrations of his rumbles and strange echoing hearbeat all through her body.

She feels herself get lifted, legs dangling towards the ceiling as the ship spins but Hulk's grip was solid, his larger body cushioning hers when they were once again slammed sideways.  
The hell was Gramps up to?! This was not the time for barrel-rolls!

<<Tyioe-ti ell-osde ctei!>> Gramps growls back as they were thrown around some more.

<<H'ko! Jhe'ina-da, ell-osde thei!>>

<<M'di me'tei! Jadi'var! **Tbi**.>>

She is too confused and scared to follow the rapid clicking and doesn't like the desperate edge in Hulk's voice. It is as close to begging as she's ever heard him.

With a grumbled curse he holds her harder against his solid front and leaps to the other side of the corridor to hang onto the railings. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist and she throws her arms around his neck to hold on like a deranged monkey as she grits her teeth to keep from screeching.

What comes next is a series of dizzying twists and leaps as Hulk maneuvers them, hand always securely pressed to her back, away from the cockpit and down the main corridor to go through another door she had been previously banned from going through.

When it opens, all other sound is muted in favor of a shrill howling of storm winds and she feels the cold biting at her exposed face and hands, making her squeeze harder when the warm hand leaves her back.

She glances to the side, where the whistling air is loudest, and sees a gaping hole torn through the thick fuselage, jagged edges blown inwards and crumpling a tear-shaped pod.

Before she has a chance to ask what the fuck is happening now, Hulk moves and tries to pry her off him.  
Her muscles reflexively tense and her nails dig in.  
The alien huffs and squeezes them both into the intact pod at the same time, allowing the hatch to close and cut off all the chaos.

The dead silence quickly turns awkward as they are shaken with the ship's movements, except now they have nowhere to bump into but each other.

Allison lets go of her deathgrip and tries to shimmy beside the bulky alien with what dignity she has left, trying not to knee him in the groin - she suspects it would hurt more for her than him if he gets pissed.  
There's no elbow room in this thing. Then again, it was probably not made for two beings.  
Those soothing rumbles start again and she is acutely aware of every patch of rough, warm skin touching hers as he waves his hand in front if his face to summon an interface.

<<Ready.>> he says.

  
<<Good.>> Gramp's voice sounds strained as a particularly rough patch of shaking squishes Allison into the pod's padding.   
<<Be prepared… I will release you…>> alarms interrupt him and she can hear the old man's muffled curses between various beeps.  
<<I will release you n->>

A muffled boom and strobing light cuts everything off.

\----------

Iktaha'rg swoops past another electrical shot, narrowly avoiding getting the cockpit fried.   
That the Mothership would open fire over them, in plain view of the primitives, speaks to a far more complicated and dangerous affair than he had expected. One or two direct hits and the ship will be disabled.  
The fact that they are not using lethal ammunition does not bring any reassurance. 

He'd taken a few glancing blows once Taan'Dtkai had started firing, but the engines were still running so he kept going.

He grits his tusks as he pulls the controls up to try to lose the larger ship's targetting system by using the clouds as cover.   
He needed to get them closer to the ground, release the pod beneath immediate notice and give his student a chance to run.

The gkinmaru on the outside of the ship were mostly incinerated. He relied on his mask's full light spectrum input, a few sensors he had left and the overwhelmed virtual intelligence to pilot.

The d'to where Hul'gkan's chiva had taken place was close.  
He angled the ship down and let it freefall to slip out of their expected route, exiting cloud cover several kilometers away from where they would have normally come out.

Early morning light filtered through his mask as the ship plummeted towards a large body of water. The mountain was just ahead.

<<Ready.>> Hul'gkan comms in from the intact drop pod. He'd moved fast, barely a few heartbeats had passed since he'd sent the young man off.

<<Good.>> he pulls them up, parallel to the ground again, barely missing a stray shot.  
<<Be prepared… I will release you…>> alarms interrupt him, fighters have been sent out. They're shooting already, even though they are not in range, in hopes of catching him unaware. He needs to hurry.  
<<I will release you n - >>

A great crack sends him and the ship tumbling just as he presses the emergency escape button. An explosion follows immediately after.  
Iktaha'rg has no time to be dismayed at the issuing alert that notifies him of another major hull breach as his vision tunnels in front of him, a colorful dark green, white and blue kaleidoscope of land and sky rushing at him as he falls out of the sky at a dangerously high velocity.

An unfortunately lucky shot had hit the ship right where the stolen military vessel had already damaged it, causing further structural damage and igniting a fuel line.  
Normally, a non-lethal round was meant to scramble systems, restart the ship's virtual intelligence and allow the pursuers to safely board a fleeing target, but now had caused a chain reaction that had resulted in an unexpected explosion which wrenched it apart.

The ship's automatic defense systems were no longer prioritizing the isolated chambers where the hull breach was located and had sealed off the only viable rooms which still held the markings of a living being.

Were they still in space, those measure might have prolonged at least one life.

His engines were gone, controls unresponsive.   
The ship has been rent in two.

His legacy - his future, has been lost in the fire that sent him hurtling towards the forested earth along with an innocent life.

A mournful keen reverberates among the chaos, not because of the realization of his own impending death as the nose of the ship starts skimming treetops and cutting through the dense wood like a dah'kte through parchment, but at his utter failure.

His last thought is that he does not deserve an instantaneous, painless death. Honor doesn't even factor in.

There is nothing but despair as the Elder Warden faces his end and crashes into the frozen over crust of Earth in a bloom of fire and shattered veritanium hull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> N'ithya = Earth
> 
> Ic'jit = Badblood(s)
> 
> Tyioe-ti ell-osde ctei! = (You) Run to the escape-pod!
> 
> H'ko! Jhe'ina-da, ell-osde thei! = No! Only one left, you will perish!
> 
> M'di me'tei! Jadi'var! Tbi. = No time! Take her! Survive. 
> 
> gkinmaru = surveillance apparatus/sensors
> 
> dah'kte = wristblades
> 
> Taan'Dtkai - Twilight Killer / one who hunts at sunset/sunrise
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> Holiday is OVER! And work was more relaxed these last two days so I had time to finish this.
> 
> You know how the Predator movies end... gotta give it a nod.
> 
> Although... I MAY be swayed into giving good ole' Gramps a chance at redemption for his hubris and pride, in stead of a fiery death, if people want it. Maybe he deserves a small spinoff to this story (which still has a quite a bit to get through).
> 
> Tell me what you think in the comments.


	21. Like drowning

The feelings a body experiences between awareness and sleep are slippery and difficult to track. They merge and separate beyond the confines of time, mixing with memories and contradicting information from all senses.  
Among the general confusion and fear there are some that stand out.

A warm presence.

Wind howling.

The feeling of weightlessness.

_Cold_.

The impossible glimpse of another human face.

  
A drop of water splashes on her forehead.

She wakes up with her teeth chattering inside her head. She cannot hear the sound over the loud rushing in her ears but she can feel the vibrations of voices through her skull.

She opens her eyes to blinding white light above her and cringes away from it, immediately closing them and turning her head to the side.

There are strange beeps to her right and slivers of cold up the insides of her elbows. She knows the feeling of needles too well now and tries to raise in order to pull out the offending items but is stopped by a dull, throbbing pain in her left side and something rigid holding her wrists down.

_Not again_. she thinks as a voice speaks in soothing tones, her ears are ringing too much to make out the words.

She grits her teeth, more out of anger than to stop the shaking, and pulls on the restraints once, twice - something gives, three times - she can finally hear better and rejoices at the muffled ripping sound as her wrist breaks free of its constraint.

The voice is desperate now, as hands touch the shoulder and forearm of her free limb and try to pin her back down.

"-equiring immediate assistance, the subject is free. I repeat, the subject is fr- goddammit, sit _still_ , we're trying to help you!" a husky voice says.

There's still something strange with her hearing, it feels lopsided and weaker in the right ear. The fear is so strong she does not even realize the voice is human.

She struggles harder, growling in aggression, and forcefully dislodges the hand holding her forearm then reaches up to grasp the one holding her shoulder.

There's a squeal of protest and she feels something crack under her palm before she pushes the offending appendage to the side. A satisfying crash follows.

She finally sits up on her ass and squints down at the rest of her body covered in something shiny and crinkly, and groans at the incessantly bright light. With an impatient jerk of her free hand, she removes the needle from her left side.

"Wait!" the same voice begs.   
"Put you weapons down!" it commands towards something else.

Her eyes have adjusted enough that she can see two dark, blurry figures in front of a door.

She rubs at her eyes with the back of her free hand, bloody needle still clutched between three fingers.

Dumbstruck, she stares at the very human soldiers pointing big black rifles at her and gapes openmouthed as they reluctantly lower their weapons.

They are not looking at her, but someone behind her. She is about to turn when she feels something sharp dive into her neck. Alarmed, and feeling strangely betrayed, she stabs the person behind her with the same needle she'd just removed from her vein, crumpling to the side and falling off the bed with her forward motion. The wrist still tied to the bed gives a twinge of pain but it is dull and faraway.

She sees a pair of black non-descript, but sensible, black shoes step back from her, their owner - the main voice, a man from what she can tell, cursing in pain. They are jooked by shuffling atrociously ugly crocs and pale green scrubs above.

There are more voices speaking about a dose of something and a horse that further confuses her before her eyelids slip closed and she is unconscious once more.

\----------

Her second time waking, that she can remember, is just as annoyingly bright as the first.  
She is once more strapped to a hospital bed, except now the restraints feel stronger and her ankles are pinned down with what feels like duct tape too. She gives an experimental tug and hears the clang of chains only for her wrist to be forcefully pulled back down by something.

Her eyes blink in and out of focus, fear and adrenaline spurring her into wakefulness.

"Already? The syringe was empty, did I give her the full dose?!" the man from before demands.

"Y-yes, she shouldn't be waking up for another hour at lea-" another meek voice answers only to be interrupted.

" _Obviously_ , that's not the case!" he yells, the sound grating.

"I-I'm sorry agent, if we give her another shot so soon we risk damaging her heart or nervous system, maybe even death!" the meek one declares with more backbone. It must be the one with the hideous footwear and scurbs.

"She _stabbed_ me!" the man argues while Allison coughs feebly. Her throat is very dry.

"Youuuuu… st-stabbed muh _fehrst_." she mumbles indignantly, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.  
"Asssssshole…" she adds smiling a little at the inconspicuous coughs of hidden laughter coming from the foot of her bed.   
So the soldiers were still there.

"She can speak…" the agent sounds awestruck and it kind of makes her want to giggle. "Didn't you say that was enough to knock out a horse?" he asks.

Allison does giggle then, neighing just to spite him.

"I did… something must've gone wrong. Maybe you didn't inject the right place? She shouldn't be conscious, let alone having a _conversation_ …" Scrubs hums.

"I know how to administer a shot, _you_ just got her high." Agent Horse deadpans and she snorts. Whatever they gave her is making her woozy and happy. And very thirsty.

"Wahtrrr…" she croaks, smacking her lips.

The bed whirrs and she feels her torso rise, whooping in delight.

The soldiers guarding the entrance look torn between worried and amused.   
She can see the room better in her new position. White tiled walls reflecting the light harshly. Her legs are covered by a thin sheet.  
Agent Horse is a tall white guy who looks to be in his mid thirties, standing with his arms crossed and frowning at her like she's some unsolvable puzzle.  
He is somewhat handsome in his dark suit and white button-up shirt, hair parted sideways and slicked back like some Gregory Peck wannabe.  
She cannot decide if he reminds her more of an accountant, a regular blue-collar worker or a lawyer. All he's missing is a briefcase and he'd fit right in to the management department at her old firm.

Still, there's something off about the image. Like he's _trying_ to look harmless and ordinary. The suit hides it but she can tell he is well built under the dark fabric, and no office worker would wear brandless shoes made for running.

"Uh… you wanted water?" Scrubs offers from her other side.   
Petite, with short blonde hair, the nurse has somehow snuck up on her while Allison had been ogling the agent and was shyly holding a small plastic cup of water with a straw.   
Allison feels a pang of remorse at their bandaged right hand and wrist.

  
She sips greedily until the water's all gone and slurps noisily at the remaining drops.

The relief is shortlived as the realization that she is once more imprisoned, by her own kind no less, sets in.  
How many times had she dreamed of speaking to another human being? Of connecting to someone like her, without the anxiety of having to navigate through rough alien language and customs. Without fear that one mistake would earn her violence or worse...

  
"Miss Cho?" the agent asks, voice smooth and lacking earlier frustration. Even if he was an ass, he had a nice husky voice. Nice face too. She could faintly recall seeing him before.

Tears well up in her eyes, spilling over as she hiccups and nods. She hadn't been called that in what felt like forever.   
She hadn't even seen another human face in such a long time. Now there are four around her and she can't even be happy about it. The experience is gratifying and deeply saddening as well, considering the circumstances.

How had she even ended up here, _alone_ with these strangers. What had happened to Hulk and Gramps?  
She'd been associating safety with them for so long that she felt adrift now.  
Had she dreamt the whole thing?

The itch at the back of her throat wins and she feels warm moisture trail down her cheeks.

"Oh no, don't cry..." Scrubs soothes, making her cry harder as she bows her head.

Relief, fear, confusion and a hundred other things resurface, crowding her head.

\----------

Blood, mostly foreign but his as well, cools on his hide in sticky, oozing patches as he leaps from tree to tree. He has slain approximately two dozen of those who seek him, but more track him through the small dto. 

He is too tired, too… drained… to care that _he_ , the apex predator of the known universe, is being hunted like a wounded hound by unworthy _primitives_ in this cursed, frozen forest.

He is still vastly superior to any one of the amateur hunters on his tail. Stronger, more cunning, better trained - but he is also lacking in long ranged weapons and proper armor.

His mask offers him a precious advantage of several vision modes and his mesh suit, while ripped in part, protects him well enough from the elements.   
The armor might have drowned him in the frigid lake had he worn the full set but right now, he dearly misses it.

The only weapon still attached to him was his ki'cti-pa. While he is most proficient in the art of the shifting spear, the lack of any other tool proves cumbersome.   
He must avoid the ooman gunshots lest he bleeds out from a thousand tiny wounds. His hide is already peppered with bleeding holes where one of the primitives got lucky and sprayed him with a buckshot.  
He has seen some of their other armaments and heard them speaking of 'armor-piercing' rounds after he had dispatched or escaped those wielding tranquilizer darts - pesky little things that barely scratch his hide and make the area they hit both itch and numb.  
As if he would ever be brought down by sedatives meant for pe-ghwie and their animals. Pah!  
Their feeble nets were easily ripped, thrown off or discarded with his spear and their sedatives were mere nuisances.

Now that the oomans poor excuse for warriors had figured out he wouldn't be so easily brought down, they had been issued more destructive weaponry and had ceased attempting to capture him. 

The new guns had given them the advantage of range and now Hul'gkan had to pick his targets and nip at their flanks.  
He'd seen what the armor piercing rounds did to the unfortunate tree behind him when he had dodged. It had practically exploded.

The snow everywhere didn't help, neither him nor his pursuers.  
He had the advantage of hearing their movements and easily seeing their thermal signatures in the cold but was also hampered whenever he tried to move anywhere. Even the slightest shake of a branch could give his position away and he had no time to cover his footprints on the ground.

The game of cat and mouse they were playing had already lasted almost three days. No matter how many oomans he killed, more would inevitably come. He'd only had a short reprieve two nights ago for a few hours when the few surviving capture-oriented primitives had fled to be replaced by the heavy hitters who had somehow managed to track him down again and doggedly pursued him wherever he went.

His cloaking unit was also misbehaving, having been damaged during the impact and his desperate swim to the surface. 

Fire Eyes had been _so cold_ …

He growls at himself, wandering thoughts would get him killed, or worse, injured and captured.

Hul'gkan lands on an exposed, jagged edge of rock, ducking beneath the low ceiling to conceal himself in the shallow cave.  
It smells of wild animal musk and frozen mud but it holds out against the whistling wind of midmorning and he can finally allow himself to rest, if only for a short time.

He hasn't had a chance to truly sit still in two days and the fatigue of continuous motion, battle, inadequate temperatures and lack of food is catching up to him.

His small medi-kit is already missing one shot of regenerative serum.   
He had considered administering the remaining one to Ah-lee when he'd fished her out of the lake but changed his mind when she coughed feebly. Giving her a full dose had just as much chance of killing her already weakened ooman body as it did of saving her. The field serum was potent and there was no way for him to control the amount which would be injected into her like he had upon treating her wounds when he'd first captured her more than two seasons ago.

He'd known then that she needed medical attention and shelter - neither of which he could provide.  
The only option was to allow her kind to take her. He'd already heard several of the noisy machines oomans used for transportation coming by way of the gravel road leading away from the lake they had crashed in.

He'd left her in their care and had watched as some of the warriors sent to investigate took her away, moving with them as some of them departed the site.

It was why he'd been discovered. 

Following the oomans without checking his cloaking unit for damage had proven to be foolish in the _extreme_. The ones keeping guard had caught sight of his hidden form sputtering and sparking as the cloak malfunctioned while he tracked the military group from the trees.

He'd bolted at first, unwilling to risk a fight where Ah-lee could potentially be injured further.

Little had he know the oomans were prepared to follow him, pelting him with the annoying sedative shots from behind before he got out of range.

More had come after him the following hours, keeping him in a mostly continuous state of motion untill he'd had enough and dispatched them.

The ones wielding guns had come in the following night while he rested for a few hours and almost caught him unaware. 

  
He would have some reprieve if he just kept out of areas accessible to oomans.

Now safely ensconced in his little shelter, he checked himself for anything more serious than a flesh wound.   
He dug out the small metal slugs he could reach while the sealant cooked.  
The sealant was easily made by melting nearby rocks in his fire-pit together with the pack of concentrated gel in his medi-kit.

The terrain here was treacherous even for him, his claws gave him an advantage scaling sheer walls and slippery ice, but one mistake and he would be nothing more than frozen meat by evening. 

As much as it grated his pride, retreating up the mountain had been neccessary, he couldn't afford another outright fight, he needed to recover or the oomans might just run him down to exhaustion.

He would not let himself be taken so easily. He had made a promise and he would keep his teacher's last wish. _Somehow_ …

Iktaha'rg had warned him that the primitives could be dangerous if sufficiently prepared and in large, organized groups. He'd been skeptical during his chiva, seeing how easily the oomans could be felled, even if they had caused him a good deal of trouble he'd seen them mostly as a nuisance. He'd deferred to the old man's wisdom out of respect. Now he understood what he'd truly meant.

Strange how similar they were to the serpents in this aspect. Perhaps it was why, out of all the sapient prey creatures of the known universe, many of whom were much more advanced and intelligent, oomans made the most challenging hosts for the hard-meats.  
He'd though the preference for oomans was due to their occasional cunning, unusual proliferation as upright bipeds and pre-spaceflight society that made them easy to manipulate and use.  
Perhaps there was more to it than he knew.

Iktaha'rg might have been able to explain more…

Thinking of his old teacher brought nothing but anger and pain, so he focused on plugging all the little wounds littering his hide with sealant, gritting his tusks as his skin hissed and sizzled.

There were a smattering of wounds on his back as well, where the buckshot had spread over a wide area. The most annoying were the ones that had dug into his scars and were difficult to reach.  
He couldn't even rest his back on anything while treating himself.

Patting at his right shoulder he reached as far as he could and brushed over something small and hard at the surface of his skin.

_Strange_ , most of the primitive projectiles managed to pierce the skin, only the small tranquilliser darts stuck out.  
He pawed at his back and growled as the object was finally scratched off along with a thin strip of skin.  
Bringing it close to his mask, he ran a scan. His interface listed all its properties neatly.

An electronic device which was sending out a signal at short intervals of time.

So _this_ is how they'd been tracking him.

Hul'gkan scoffed and pocketed the device, resuming his treatment, it would become useful later.

\----------

The nurse's name is Robin, that is all they are allowed to say, while Agent Horse introduces himself James Adler, no organization name given although Allison has heard the soldiers stationed outside of her room whisper about 'the company' when they thought she was asleep and caught the tail end of a mysterious conversation Agent Adler was having on a blocky flip phone that looked both old fashioned and new.

After her embarrassing incident the other day she had been left mostly alone. The soldiers remained outside her room's door and Agent Adler left after Robin had given him the stink-eye.   
Apparently, the consensus was that he'd made Allison cry and thus deserved exile. She'd been too exhausted to redress the assumption and too ashamed to correct them.   
Not like anyone could understand her, _she_ barely understood her own grief.

The little nurse had puttered around and produced a pack of napkins from somehwere then helped Allison clean up while apologising for not being allowed to free her hands. Agent Adler had the key to those.

After that, she'd fallen dead asleep and was now waking up with a pounding headache.

"Good morning!" Robin comes in through the door, offering a glimpse of the hallway beyond. There are more figures milling about, shadowy as they are concealed by a film of semi-transparent plastic that makes up the hallway 'walls'.

Allison cringes at the loud sound of their voice, groaning in protest.

"How are you feeling today?" they ask as carrying a tray one handed and extending the small table at the side of the bed. "Looks like a migraine, I'll give you something for the pain after you eat."

Allison's mouth waters at the smell of cooked food wafting from the covered tray and she just about slobbers when the shiny metal lid is taken off.

The meal looks simple, a chicken broth and two pieces of slightly burnt toast. The smell makes her realize just how _hungry_ she it.

"Now, take it slow, you've been out of it for a couple of days and you had a mild concussion. I _strongly_ advised them not to put you under but they wouldn't listen, I'm afraid you'll be stuck with the migraines for a while." they chattered as the bed was brought further up so that Allison was in a sitting position and the little table was placed over her lap.

A plastic spoon sat beside the broth but she goes ahead and just drinks directly from the bowl. The rigid steel chains connecting her leather shackles to the bed extend enough that she can pick something up and take it to her mouth. She knows they can be tightened at any moment by whoever controls the apparatus attached to the underside of her bed.

The soup is disapointingly lukewarm and not nearly as good as Gemma's.

She puts the half-empty bowl down with a clank, suddenly feeling sick as she remembers her long lost friend and their last evening together.   
The broth falls like lead in her stomach and she can taste bile on her tongue.  
Robin, somehow figuring out the change before it happened, was already waiting with a small bucket for her to vomit in.

The little nurse sighs and pats her back, thin hospital gown crinkling under a small bandaged hand.

Once she is done, Allison rinses her mouth with the proffered plastic cup of water and spits the nasty out.

"You really should take it easy. You've been through a traumatic event." they chide in a motherly tone.

"Sorry…" Allison mumbles. "About hurting you."

Robin looks between their bandaged wrist and Allison's bound ones, shaking their head minutely.  
"You're really strong." they say, tone mystified. "And you recovered so _fast_ …"

"What do you mean?" Allison frowns down at the little blonde.

Robin gives her a dubious look, like she's lying, and opens their mouth to speak.

"Good morning Miss Cho." Adler barges in before the nurse gets a chance to say anything, looking annoyingly fresh in his pressed dark suit, white shirt and carrying a simple briefcase, completing the blue-collar worker look.  
"I hope you're feeling better today." he clears his throat and smiles. He's unexpectedly charming with that dimple in his right cheek and it catches her off guard.  
"Nurse Robin, would you mind giving us a moment? I have some questions for Miss Cho."

"I'd rather stay here if it's all the same to you. She _is_ my patient after all. And the last time I left, you ended up screaming for help." Robin crosses their arms and pouts up at the Agent, showing him the bandage on her wrist. The height difference between the two is amusingly large. Robin can't be more than 5'2" and Adler stands at least a foot over them.

Allison wonders if _she_ looked this ridiculous defying the much taller and stronger aliens. 

"True." Adler nods and adjusts his tie. "But you aren't cleared for this. So _get_ _out_." he commands, charming smile gone and tone brooking no argument.

Robin practices their evil eye on the Agent all the way out the door.

He hums as they are left alone and Allison fists the covers under her bound hands as he smiles in her direction again. The speed at which he recovers his friendly demeanor is unsettling.

"Where were we… Ah, how rude of me, you haven't finished breakfast yet. I can wait if you'd like." he offers, saccharine and deceptively honest.

"Not hungry." she replies, pushing the table away and resting her hands on the side of the bed. She can feel the slight tug that suggests she is now immobilized.

Adler approaches the bed slowly, mindful of her tense posture and balled fists, to take the tray away, leaving the little hospital table extended and free of objects. Then he opens the briefcase ( _is that kevlar lining_?) and takes out a thin binder.   
He leafs through the contents slowly. She can spot pages that look as though they've been made with a typewriter, the telltale traces of dark letters showing up on the back, as well as hand written notes. Some of the pages have thicker photos attached to them with clips.

Adler's face is severe as he studies the files, picking out several photos and gently setting them on the white plastic table, then pushing it back towards her.

She ignores the photos, still staring at his face as he backs away.   
The tension in the shackles lessens and she is allowed to move again. She chooses not to.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks, maintaining challenging eye-contact with the man.

Adler blinks, genuinely confused this time. "I simply wish to ask some questions. There are a _lot_ of people who've been inquiring about you once you reappeared after being missing for such a long time Miss Cho." he says. She can't tell if he's intentionally misunderstanding her or not.

"How long?"

"About three days since we've found you half frozen on the lake-side, I'd say."

"No. I mean how long have I been missing for?"

Adler looks confused again, and _intrigued_. "How can you not…" he starts but shakes his head. "- nevermind."   
"Do you… remember speaking to your neighbor, Gemma Langley on the-"

"September 12th, I was supposed to pick her up from the library but I was late, she left my apartment after dark." Allison murmured, flashes of her life coming back to her all at once. She'd never forgotten, but she'd tried not to think about what she'd lost to keep herself strong, to survive her ordeal.   
Now the memories felt old and ghostly. Like they belonged to someone else.

  
"… yes and now it's the 22nd of December…"

She pursed her lips and frowned, it had felt like longer than a few months.

"... two years later."

Allison's eyes widened in disbelief. She'd lost two years and three months of her life.  
Somehow it felt both too little for all that she's lived through and unforgivably too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> ki'cti-pa = retractable spear/combistick
> 
> pe-ghwie = primitive(s)
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> I headcanon Prime years (or 'spans') are around 4 Earth years long.  
> The equatorial ring of life most of them live in has two big seasons, the hot and arid mating season and the rainy season, and two intermediary seasons that last a lot less as the weather changes. Hunts take place during the intermediary seasons and later in the rainy season. 
> 
> Most of the Allied Clans gather on Prime by mid-arid season, at the latest, when mating starts so they have a chance of furthering their bloodline and bearing the trophies they have gathered throughout the rest of the span to impress potential mates.
> 
> So Allison's been gone for a long time. Wonder what happened while she was away OwO
> 
> Also what do you think of the new characters?


	22. Steady as she goes

The land was still and frozen, but hardly lifeless. 

Small creatures occupied the canopy as well as the roots undergrown - he could see them scurrying about and flying out of his way as he jumped from tree to tree. 

He'd taken his mask off to allow himself some freedom after being constrained in the stolen ship for so long, hiding behind the many moons of the gas giant near where his sire's last location had been registered followed by weaving through the most treacherous regions of the asteroid belt, then darting through empty space to once again hide behind the dark face of N'ythia's only natural satellite.

It was by unbelievable luck that he'd managed to slip by unnoticed and to land amidst the chaos. All sings pointed towards the fact that his sirer was at the heart of the problem.

He'd picked up chatter from the orbiting stations, squabbling amongst each other over why his former Clanship had opened fire on one of their own where the primitives could see.

While the oh so Honorable leaders argued, he had taken the liberty of entering the atmoshpere where attention was least focused and coasted below detectable height along the large iced ocean at the planet's north pole to reach the land where Iktaha'rg's ship had apparently crashed.  
It had taken him almost two of the planet's rotations to reach his destination, but in the end, he had forced patience to reign and remained undetected.

Akr'dtai refused to believe the old man could be felled so easily. There was too much agitation from the primitives over mere scraps.  
No, he recognized the determination in the eyes of the savages - they were on the hunt.

Keeping himself hidden also required great patience from him. And maintaining his distance. It would not do to be swarmed by the apes before he found whatever remained of his sire and ended it.  
Iktaha'rg deserved to die by _his_ hand and none other.

He would watch the oomans and take their prey from right under their pointy noses.  
None but him had the right to kill his sire. 

He'd always thought he would have more time; to prepare, to learn and grow and surpass - but his luck had always been full of _c'jit_. He'd just have to turn this around in his favor like he always did.

The primitives were mounting a large force, boarding dark, noisy machines that would take them to the sky and sending out smaller autonomous drones to scout ahead.   
Considering how backwater the civilization was, he was almost impressed with how far their technology had reached. Perhaps he would acquire one of the drones for himself and have the Mei'sha'dte engineers perfect it. A matter for another time.

Avoiding detection was doubly important considering he had no cloaking unit. He did not like lagging so far behind the primitives, like a lowly scavenger waiting for the hunters' scraps, but he had no choice.   
Practicing patience had never been more difficult. It was not a virtue of his to begin with and he could feel rage building up under his skin like a starved hound.   
He hadn't expanded any of his pent up anger in a long time and he'd been thirsting for blood since before this journey started.

Perhaps he could whet his appetite for destruction on some of the primitives, he'd always wanted to hunt one and now was as good an opportunity as any.   
There were plenty of them anyway, as long as he didn't get distracted from his main hunt, he could indulge. Disobeying his former clan's poaching laws was only an added bonus.

\----------

Morning brought the unnatural buzz of something in the air above the cave.  
Hul'gkan had been busy last night and only just shut his eyes to rest when the sun was beginning to paint the sky in warmth.  
Now the light was fully out, shining off the white snow and allowing his pursuers to see, he would have to make his stand.

He chittered in anticipation. They would find _quite_ the surprise waiting for them.

He carefully maneuvered himself out of his temporary shelter, mindful not to slip on the ice, and perched atop the uneven ledge.

Scanning the area, his mask picked on the poorly shielded electrical pulses of small flying objects. He could even hear them buzzing about like carrion flies above carnage.

The real ones would come once he was done here.

Any other time he would have savored the opportunity to hunt a worthy, clever group of prey like this. Now he just wanted to be done with it.

He needed to search for his teacher, or what remained of him. Put him to rest and find Ah-lee then figure out a way off this cursed planet.

\----------

Wherever she was being held at was _big_.

Allison was being allowed a short (and very guarded) tour of the floor she was being kept in after she'd promised Agent Adler not to stab anyone with needles.

The little bit of freedom was hardwon of course. The man _really_ wanted answers.

She still wasn't over the realization of just how long she'd been abducted for, but had figured that there was no changing the past anyway and focused on the present.

Studying the photos Adler had put before her brought back unpleasant memories of her last days on Earth.  
Seeing her shredded belongings on the forest floor wasn't nearly as disturbing as the claw-marks deeply marring the thick bark of several trees where Hulk had used them to pinball himself during her desperate chase.

Any one of those could have been on her body.

Now that she'd seen what the strange hard-meats and Hulk's people were capable of, her survival two years ago felt nothing short of miraculous.

Adler had also queried her about the missing family of poachers. 

She'd been hesitant to answer any of his previous questions, but told him the trust about Jeremiah and his sons. If they had any living friends and relatives, they deserved to know none of the men were ever returning.

Adler had looked at her skeptically, reminding her that there was no trace of the bodies when his team had investigated.   
She had shrugged in reply, having only seen them die, not what happened to their bodies after she'd attempted to escape.

When he'd tried to weasel more information out of her, Allison had proposed a bargain. She would answer a question for every hour she got to 'stretch her legs', two if she was allowed outside.

The Agent was not very pleased, outright denying any possibility of her ever leaving the room.

Unwilling to let the opportunity slip, she'd whined and claimed she was bored out of her mind. It wasn't the first time she'd gotten out of an awkward situation like this with a man, she just hoped she still had it.

Adler had caved when Allison had started pleading like a bratty kid. Her dad had been military and, for the short time he'd been in her life when she was young, he'd never had the patience for her prolonged whining either.   
She'd even suggested taking the guards with her everywhere she went and promised to comply afterward.

The Agent had added another rule though, she would remain cuffed for the entire duration of her walk.

That was how Allison was now shuffling her way down a wide hallway.

There were no windows she could see, not even when they passed by the large cafeteria, so wherever they were was probably underground. The smell of cooked food had been inviting, but she was wary of being sick again and the unwavering attention of everyone who ate there would nag at her too much.

The guards at her back were noisy, stomping around with no care in the world.   
She'd gotten used to being the clumsiest creature in any given group of aliens but now she felt like everyone around her was purposefully graceless.  
And much too small to be so careless.  
Also, there was a stuffy funk in the air, even though the place was roomy. It reminded her of too many animals in a cage, like the markets she would visit with her gong gong when she was very little.

The fatigues she'd been given were a little scratchy and loose at the waist while tight on her thighs, and the belt needed an extra hole. The gray cotton shirt sat snugly on her shoulders but was baggy all the way down.  
She kind of missed the mesh suit, at least that was comfortable and fit her perfectly.

The people around her tended to give the small group a wide berth. They tried not to stare but she could feel their eyes on her with every step.  
Most of them looked like soldiers, standing firm in neat fatigues similar to hers, well muscled and observant, others were probably doctors or researchers judging by the messy labcoats, the coffee stains on their clothes and their drawn, tired faces.

  
Allison felt more like an outsider here than on a literal alien planet.

Still, it was good to be mobile again. She'd become used to Hulk's strict training regimen and being tied to a hospital bed really didn't help her anxiousness. She could already feel some of the stress dissipate.

Their walk came to a sudden stop when a group of burly men stepped into her way.  
They looked to be in their late fourties. Tall and muscular, with close-cropped hair.

Intimidating… for humans anyway.

"Get out of the way Sergeant." Adler said with an impatient tap of his foot. He'd been walking beside her the whole way, just out of arms reach while the soldiers guarding her were careful to maintain at least 6 feet between them and her at all times.

The Sergeant, who must have been the big scarred guy at the center of the group, crossed his arms and harrumphed at the much younger Agent. He had a bandage over his left eye, the faintest trace of pink seeping out from under the white gauze.

"I don't take orders from you, Stilts." the older man grumbles, clearly unimpressed with the, admittedly much slimmer, Agent.  
"Looks like the little lady's not so blue anymore." he continues, looking down his nose at her. "Never seen anyone keep all their delicates after freezing. Maybe you should consider giving the boys some of whatever she had. Save some toes." he scratched at his chin, nails rasping over the faint traces of bristly hair no amount of shaving would ever get rid of.  
He takes another step in front of the group, closer to her.  
"Unless she got it from those _things_." his gravelly voice sounds threatening and Allison feels herself tense, muscles readying for a fight.

"This doesn't concern you Wilks. And I don't know if you've been informed, but as of this morning I _can_ give you orders. So take your men and go." Adler steps in front of her to confront the brute, using his own body as a shield.  
The two men are of similar heights, but vastly different physiques.

"Doesn't concern me?! My boys are out there, getting torn to pieces hunting your beast and this doesn't _concern_ me?!" Wilks shouts, getting up in Alder's face, the prominent vein at his neck pulsing with anger.

"Stand down or I will be forced to have you removed." Adler seethes in a low, dangerous tone.

After a drawn out stare, Wilks backs up a step and shakes his head.

"You think just cause the upstairs said you're top dog means anything to the men risking their lives out there?" the Sergeant asks, mocking smile tugging at his thin lips and stretching the scar on his cheek.  
"You're not one of us, pretty boy. Your hands are too clean." 

"Be that as is may-"

"And _you_." Wilks interrupts the Agent to look at Allison again. "You got nothin' to say to this? I hauled your frozen ass all the way here and lost thee of my men just cause they saw the damn thing stalking us. You owe me. What the hell is it? And how do I catch it?" he demands, shouldering past Adler and knocking him to the side with his bulk.

All eyes are on her again and all she wants to do is run and hide.

  
"Miss Cho, he is not authorized to -"

"I don't think you can." Allison murmurs. All the shuffling in the room stops.  
She swallows, throat dry.  
"He's… a hunter, of a sort."

"He?" Adler whispers but his voice is lost beneath the Sergeants statement of fact: "If it bleeds, it can die. And it sure as hell bled, lemme tell ya. But it's worth more alive than dead." 

"You should take your men and go somewhere far away from here." she warns, unsettled at the pang of concern over Hulk's wounds.

"Like hell I will. That thing needs to pay. We've got it cornered anyway. Just thought you might have some pointers seein' as how you lived with it for two damn years."

"God _damn_ it." Adler swears, fixing the guards behind her with furious eyes. It seems their secret conversation hadn't been so secret after all.

"Cornered?" she asks in disbelief.

"Hell yeah. It's just a matter of time till we get it, but I'd rather not lose any more good men trying to figure out how this thing works." Wilks nods proudly, the others around him puffing up.

Hulk _wouldn't_ let himself get trapped, he was too smart. She refused to believe he could be killed by these men. She'd seen him survive _much_ worse things.

"You don't know what you're dealing with." her palms fist and unfist nervously, she can't tell wether the man is being aggressive towards her or not and it's putting her on edge. With the aliens it was always clear when one of them was spoiling for a fight. Posturing usually ended in violence.

"So why don't you enlighten me? C'mon, you gotta know something." Wilks leans in closer, unheeding of Adler's hand pushing on his shoulder.

"Wilks, step _away_." the Agent warns through gritted teeth.

"Or did it keep you locked up like an animal the whole time? Don't think so, you don't get muscles like those just sitting around." he gestures at her figure. "Heard you crushed little bird's hand yesterday." he wheedles.

Allison frowns but stands her ground, shifting on her feet minutely and squaring her hips. She remembers the thick bandage on Robin's hand, how the little nurse had still treated her well even after the injury.

"I'm _talking_ to you, girl!" the big man pushes past Adler getting up in her space. "You mute all of a sudden?" he is four steps away. The Agent is ordering the people around to remove the Sergeant. They do not even acknowledge his order, much less obey.

"Maybe you're on its side?" Wilks taunts, three steps away.

Like with every confrontation in her life there is the initial impulse to back away, but if there was anything she'd learned living with beings so much more dangerous than this guy, it was that running away didn't work. There's also the matter of the two soldiers guarding her, still six feet behind, who might listen to Adler or they might not.

"Is that it? You a _traitor_ to your own fucking race?" he demands, the pulsing vein in his neck begging her to punch it.

She growls in warning, teeth bared as Wilks takes another step towards her and raises a brow in question.

Adler is on his strange fliphone, arguing with someone in a low voice, eyes darting between her and the soldier. He tries to pull the Sergeant away from her but all it does is set the big man off.  
She sees his big fist swing upwards and sucker punch Adler so hard he goes sprawling back, compact phone flying from his hand.

Now _this_ is something she is familiar with.   
Wilks doesn't have a chance to put his hands on her as Allison ducks to avoid his grabbing hand.  
The older man is an experienced fighter though, and immediately moves to knee her in the gut, prompting her to twist out of the way and take only a glancing blow to side.

She blocks the hook coming for her ribs with her forearm, it hurts and it will bruise but it's better than a cracked rib.   
The chain between her cuffs is short but offers enough slack that she can still defend herself and grab his outstretched arm, twisting the wrist outwards.  
Something snaps and the Sergeant yowls in pain.

He isn't deterred, bringing in his other fist in a cross aimed at her face.  
She is forced to let go of his wrist and raise both hands to catch his punch in the palm of her right hand, wincing at the sharp pain in her own wrist.  
Now that she's got a good grip on him again, Allison pulls on his fist and sidesteps with a smooth slide, unbalancing him into a forward motion right into her rising knee.

There's a crunch and a muffled grunt of pain as the man's head snaps up with the force of her kick.  
Allison takes the opportunity to throw a punch in too, just for good measure. It is weaker and clumsier because of her bound wrists but it does the job well enough as Wilks goes down on his front in a heap, blood gushing from his nose.

She hadn't meant to break it, but she'd gotten used to fighting huge fucking aliens so her approximations of necessary force were a little off.

The whole thing lasted less than six seconds.

Allison isn't even breathing hard as the crowd around her stares.  
Agent Adler hadn't gotten up from where he'd fallen on his ass, gaping up at her in wonder.   
" _Holy shit._ " he mumbles, blinking at her blearily, one eye slower than the other as the eyelid is already swelling, bruise darkening.

Wilks groans and knees on the floor with both hands to his nose, trying to staunch the crimson flow. The smell of it, coppery and heavy on the air, makes her want to finish the soldier off before he can retaliate.  
Whenever she'd sparred with Hulk, or on rare occasions Gramps, it was usually her who ended up with small scratches or a bleeding nose. She knew both of them held back from doing any real damage or hitting her with their full strength, the fight with the creep in the jungle proved just how powerful even a glancing blow could be, but they still hit hard enough that she knew they meant business.   
Ever since getting her ass handed to her in the jungle, the scent of blood brought out something vicious and wild in her. The need to kill or risk _being_ killed. 

Her fists clench painfully as she breathes through the violent urges. Already, her mind envisions how she could kneel on his back and loop her arms around his throat, using the short chain that binds her wrists together to choke him out.  
She is still lucid enough to know that killing a man who is already down would be dishonorable and would likely earn severe retaliation from the other humans present.

The tension in the air is thick, as though everyone is waiting on the precipice of brutality, waiting to see where the balance will tilt.

Adler gets up, but all the attention is still fixed on her. Wary, distrustful eyes that betray both fear and hatred. Not unsurprising, she _had_ just throttled their chosen leader.

Wilks stands, stumbling to the side and refusing help from one of his buddies with a snarled insult.

"You… " the big man growls, turning to face her once more.  
"What are you idiots waiting for?!" he turns to look around the other soldiers "Get h-"

He doesn't get to finish his command as Adler lays him out with a sucker punch of his own, except his is a little sloppier and catches Wilks in the jaw, throwing blood to the side in a fresh wave.  
"ENOUGH!" the Agent's voice rings down the hallway loudly, drawing everyone's focus.

"Sergeant, you better _shut_ the _fuck_ up and stand _down_ or I will bury you so deep you won't know your ass from a hole in the ground." he warns, shaking sensation back into the hand he'd struck with.

"And the rest of you!" he addresses the others who automatically straighten up at the authoritative tone. "Lay a hand on her and I will personally ensure you never find work again." he threatens in a low tone, staring down the men closest to them.

"Get him out of my sight." Adler orders to her guards. Either because they are more loyal to him than the Sergeant or are sufficiently cowed by his anger, they obey and heft Wilks up, each supporting the older man by an arm. He keeps swearing nazally with a hand still pinching the nostrils closed as they take him away, presumably to the medical center.  
"Return to your stations."

The crowd starts clearing, low conversation buzzing in the air around her.   
Adler straightens his collar, a muscle in his jaw twitching with unspent aggression.  
"You ok?"

"... I should be asking you that." Allison nods at his shiner. There's a sliver of hazel where his iris is barely visible beneath the swollen lids.

"I've had worse." he shrugs and produces a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his jacket, then offers it to her. "You got a little…" he flaps it at her bloodied knuckles.

Allison can't resist smiling at his sudden bashfulness, accepting the small piece of cloth and furiously rubbing at her hand to get the stink off.

"Thanks for not killing him by the way. As much as Wilks gets on my last nerve, he's a hell of a soldier and we still need him to wrangle all the others." he explains, studying her out of the corner of his good eye while she scrubs herself clean.  
Her knuckles remain a little sticky and the smell from the splotches on the floor still have her on edge, but she feels calmer after having cleaned up and left alone.  
"Not a big fan of blood, are you?"

She doesn't answer, crumpling the cloth in her hands, unsure wether to give it back or throw it away.  
"Who even uses handkerchiefs in this day and age?" she teases in stead, balling up the bloody square and throwing it at his chest.

"Modernity is no excuse for poor hygiene." Adler says, holding it between thumb and forefinger in disgust.   
A corner of his mouth twitches up and there's the hint of a dimple in his right cheek. Her stomach does an unexpected little flip and she looks away. She'd always been weak for a nice smile and genuine charm.

"Thanks for… standing up for me, Agent." Allison rubs her clean hand up and down the other forearm self-consciously, as far as the chain allows her.

Adler puffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. "Oh, you had that handled. I was saving _them_."   
"And call me James." the smile evens out on both sides and he winces when the muscles of his face move around his black eye.

"You should ice that." she suggests, resisting the urge to touch him.

"Lets head back to the mess hall, there's an ice machine there and you can grab something to eat while you're at it. You must be starving."

The idea of food _does_ appeal to her, maybe she'll even manage to keep it down, but facing a horde of soldiers who distrust her and might start another fight crumbles her appetite. 

"We'll take a tray to your room." Adler - or James, offers quickly. "I think we've both had enough excitement for today."

"Let me uncuff you first. No point in drawing any more attention to ourselves." he holds a hand out while the other retrieves a small key from his pocket.

Allison slowly holds her arms out and nods, grateful to be rid of them and trying to ignore how much softer his skin is than Hulk's. There are some calouses on his palms, but his fingers are long and elegant as they unlock the cuffs and release her.   
The nails are short and clean, not dangerous dark claws that could scrape the flesh off her bones with a careless swipe.

"I'm pretty sure we'll stand out no matter what. That suit's not exactly inconspicuous in a sea of camo, you know." she teases. She'd craved speaking casually to another human being for so long, it feels good, even if this man is keeping her captive too.

"Hah, touché." he smiles down at her again.

"I - I've behaved very unfairly towards you, Miss Cho." James says, serious once more. "This job... it makes it hard to trust anyone."  
"I'm responsible for everyone on this base, including you - or I should say, _especially_ you. You're a particularly… _unique_ individual."

"Yeah, I guess alien abduction's pretty rare." she chuckles weakly. It is the first time the actual word has been used. So far both Robin and Adler had been very careful not to speak about what had happened to her in such plain terms.

"Not at all." he pockets the cuffs and key.

Before she has a chance to question him further, an alarm starts ringing, yellow lights flashing down the hallway.  
Soldiers jump into action returning to their posts at a brisk walk, some herding scientists further into the base. 

"Agent Adler!" a young man in uniform comes running to them. "Sir! We need you in the control room."

"What's happened?" Adler's demeanor shifts once more to his serious, unruffled persona. Somehow he can pull off looking in control even with a black eye.

"Th-the teams. We've lost contact." 

"Wh - _all_ of them?"

The boy nods, his hands are trembling.

"A-and there's an update from Sat-5. Another craft was spotted in the area after the landslide. The backup team has been called in but they're not making any sense." he rattles off without pausing for breath. James calms him with a hand to the shoulder and turns to her.

"Can I trust you to get back to your room and stay there? You'll be safe." he asks, his battered face almost pleading.

She can only nod and let him go, then she sprints towards where all the armed soldiers are going as soon as he is out of sight.

As much as she's tempted to like the man, she still values her freedom over any promises made under duress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> c'jit = shit
> 
> Mei'sha'dte Clan = Invader Clan (rogue, unrecognized clan of Badbloods led by a legendary ic'jit called The Patriarch.)
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> Hello! Sorry for the long wait. I was in kind of a slump for a while and needed to get my shit together. I'm hoping the burst in creativity will hold up for a few more weeks so I can finish this arc already.
> 
> Anyway, since y'all absolutely hated James on their first meeting, I decided he deserved a nice punch. I'm hoping he'll grow on you but who knows.
> 
> I wonder if anyone caught the expanded lore shoutout while reading.  
> Wilks is a name that also appears in some of the comics, although the guy here is kind of like his great-great-great-geandpa (or something like it).
> 
> Hope you liked 'eerily savage' Allison growling, showing teeth and planning murder like an angry Predator, haha!  
> You can't spend two years among freaky assholes and NOT pick up some of their bad habits.
> 
> Here's hoping I'll see you next week, toots!


	23. Hidden machinations

Allison moves with the bulk of the soldiers scrambling all over the place. She'd picked up a lost cap to hide her face in case anyone recognized her, but she doubted they would notice her in the midst of all the chaos.

The floor they were on ended in a sort of **Y** junction with a huge elevator in the middle. It was even bigger than the industrial mining one she'd seen on a road trip with her junior high class when they'd visited a nearby salt mine. It could probably fit three dozen people with room to spare.  
She didn't see any signs of stairs and the armed guards standing at each side of the entrance didn't allow anyone too close. The giant sliding doors were closed anyway.

Most of the people moving to and fro were heading down the other two corridors at the sides, the one on the right went on straight ahead while the left branched off in a neat grid like the one she'd come from.

It was unlikely there were any other exits through the branching corridors, but perhaps doing a little exploring now would help her in the future.

  
The two red lights above the elevator doors flashed to life and a calm female voice asked to clear the area above the din of a hundred people not quite panicking.  
Allison retreated to a corner and kneeled to redo one of her shoelaces.

If she could somehow sneak on when it left…

The grand metal doors slid open, they were almost two feet thick, and revealed three people.   
Two tall blonde men who were wearing similar suits to Agent Adler, except they looked more expensive, and an older one in the middle who was dressed in casual clothes - neat blue jeans, a white cotton shirt, pale golden watch glinting at his wrist, and sturdy dark brown boots. Everything was simple and good quality, but tailored in that rich people way she used to see on TV.  
  
He looked to be in his late fourties or early fifties, with gray streaks at his temples. Not particularly tall and with a lean build.

She finished retying her laces and stood up, walking briskly out of the trio's way. The chaos was dying down and there weren't as many people to cover her presence. It was wiser to retreat.

The men were headed in the direction she'd come from, so she took a different turn, but before she got more than ten paces down the rightmost corridor, she hear her name being called.

"Miss Allison Cho, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you." it was the older man who spoke, his voice a smooth and unexpectedly pleasant burr.  
She didn't stop, but froze for just a fraction of a second. It was enough confirmation that at the snap of the rich man's fingers, one of his two guard rushed her.  
She managed to throw him off, slamming him against the nearest wall and elbowing him in the face.  
It did very little to deter him, only breaking his expensive sunglasses. He had too blue eyes and no expression on his waxy face to speak of.

"And you even came all the way here to welcome us. How _courteus_." the older man continues as she wrestles with the tall blonde.   
He is ridiculously strong, breaking her hold easily and almost twisting her arm off.   
Allison just barely throws him off with a hard shove of her shoulder, putting some distance between then with a palm-heel strike where his chest meets his neck that doesn't even phase him. He _should_ have choked.

She dances out of the way of his swipe but his knuckles still land a glancing blow, snapping her head to the side, spittle and blood flying out from where she'd cut the inside of her cheek on her teeth.  
Allison steps back, kicking at his knee. The hit doen't break the joint as she'd expected but only makes him stumble forward. She sidesteps and pushes against the wall in a small jump then batters him with both fists held together on the back with all her might, grunting with the effort and the pain of impact.  
The force of it is enough to send the man crashing to the floor.  
Her next move, stomping on his back as hard as she can (one of Hulk's favorites) is stopped mid-air by the sound of a gun cocking.  
The other blonde man, eerily similar to the first - leave it to rich assholes to hire freakishly strong twins - was pointing his handgun at her, safety off. 

Allison steps back, hands up.

"I believe that is enough." the older man simpers, patting the air in front of him in a calming gesture. Blonde number two puts the safety back on and lowers his gun, but does not holster it.

Allison's eyes dart between the man with the gun and his charge, calculating wether or not she can reach the old man in time and use him to get out of here.

"I'd really rather you keep your head, Miss Cho. A bullet is much faster than you, though I don't doubt you are more than _capable_ of twisting my head off if you'd get here in time." he puts his hands in his pockets, completely at ease.  
"Autopsies never reveal as much as a living being can. We wouldn't want to resort to that, would we? You strike me as more of a survivor, not prone to brashness that may endanger you. And trust me, my boys can be _quite_ lethal."

Allison spits a glob of blood at his feet, fisting both hands and gritting her teeth in defeat. Apparently two years of losing to big aliens have taught her when not to push her luck.

"That's better." he nods, smile stretching his thin mouth and wrinkling the skin at his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. A real smile this time. He is pleased to have cowed her.

"Ah, but where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. You really know how to _distract_ a fellow, Miss Cho." the smile is gone, replaced by a mockingly shocked expression.  
"The name's Henry Bishop, but everyone calls me Bishop. As I said before, it's a true pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Cho."

She remains silent, looking between the man who could order her dead and the one holding the gun.   
While Bishop had talked, the guy on the floor had risen and straightened his expensive suit. Some of the buttons on his shirt had come off, revealing part of his right clavicle and chest. The skin there was hairless and oddly untextured with a waxy sheen like his face.  
Who the hell were these creeps?

Bishop coughs unexpectedly, turning his head away to fish for a handkerchief and wipe at his mouth. His breathing sounds strained and wet.

"… seems… * _koff_ * seems I've talked too much." his smooth voice trembles.  
The blonde without a gun, still disheveled from their fight, offers an inhaler and Bishop attempts to breathe from it deeply, devolving into another coughing fit that he struggles to control.  
Some of the personnel still milling about slow down to steal furtive glances but know better than to stop and gawk.

"I think we could both use some fresh air, yes? That _is_ where you were headed…" Bishop offers after a short pause, pointing at the elevator.  
Whatever was in the inhaler seems to have worked, his breathing still wheezes but he no longer coughs.

Allison looks for help, eyes darting from side to side, but there is no Agent Adler to stand up for her now, no aliens to intervene.  
The gun is still out.

Perhaps she can use this to her advantage. At least see where she is.

She leads the men onto the elevator, blonde guards on either side of her as Bishop trails at a careful distance.

\----------

The ride up is agonizingly slow, the pleasant mood music jarring and contrasting with her anxiety.  
The bodyguards are rigidly unmoving to the point that she can't even see them breathing, while Bishop taps his foot along with the subtle dings and trills of the little tune playing overhead.

He clears his throat before asking "What are they like?" with child-like curiosity.

Allison turns her head to glance at him out of the corner of her eye. The guards shift closer minutely, strangely synchronised.

"Dangerous." she replies. The taste of blood is still in her mouth, but a bit of probing with her tongue reveals the small, coppery tasting cut has stopped bleeding.

Bishop scoffs, she can hear him shuffle around, boots thumping softly on the carpeted floor untill he circles in front of her, maintaining the customary six feet of safety. Lucky for him this elevator is so large, her fingers twitch at the prospect of wringing his neck.

"That's it? No culture, no habits? No gods or beliefs? What about art, laws, customs or better yet - _medicine_ and _technology_?" he holds up his arms in both supplication and anger. "I know you're no fool, you must have picked up _something_."

She clamps her mouth shut. Why is everyone up her ass about things she doesn't know. 

"You saw the most advanced alien species up close and that's all you have to say for it?!" he demands.

"It wasn't by _choice_!" she yells back, turning to face him and taking a step forward only to be immediately slammed back into the wall by two pale hands, knocking the breath out of her. The elevator groans and shakes beneath her and she grabs at both their wrists but is unable to push them away. How can they be almost as strong as Hulk...

"Do not damage her!" Bishop orders and the men let her go.  
She growls at their retreat but does not move from her dent in the wall.

The elevator pings happily and the doors open to reveal a long, tall and narrow, damp corridor that looked to have been chipped right through the rock. The walls were uneven and rough, condensation running down in pale rivulets to make little stone bumps at the bottom.  
She shivers in the cold. The air here was fresh, not recycled and body-warm like in the facility underground.

Bishop adjusts the collar of his shirt and puts on a thick thermal parka handed to him by a uniformed guard. She hadn't even noticed the large chamber full of soldiers just to the side of the lift.

"You disappoint me, Miss Cho. Did all that expensive higher education go to waste?"

Was this guy serious?

Now that she thought about it, she wondered what had happened to her student debt. Her mother used to be a co-signer but she'd been removed from the contract after passing and Allison had been able to pay off a moderate sum every month on her own after getting hired.  
Her credit score must be _abysmal_.

If she were to return to her old life now, would she even have anything left? That hadn't even registered on her list of 'crap to deal with' until now.

The bodyguards broke her out of her reverie by pushing against her shoulder to get her to walk.  
Her boots were clunky and awkward as she followed after Bishop, climbing a gentle slope untill they reached a pair of massive metal doors.  
They were followed by half a dozen other uniformed soldiers who stepped out with them after one of them opened a smaller entrance cut into one of the big gates.

She'd been feeling chilly in the stale, moist air of the stone hallway but once the door opened her teeth began chattering as the freezing wind cut through her like a knife.

Bishop looks snug in his classy clothing, smiling at her from behind the raised collar of his coat, but she ignores him in favor of the natural beauty around her. Jagged, white peaks could be seen in the distance, the valley between covered in different species of pine trees, all of them tall and burdened by snow and ice.  
The vegetation around her is smaller, more craggly, better adapted to the lower temperature and higher altitude.

Most people she knew found winter desolate and gloomy, but she'd always thought it beautiful.  
Too bad she couldn't enjoy her first real glimpse of home. She was freezing, trembling in her boots like some newborn fawn.

"Can you believe there used to be a temple on this mountain?" Bishop's voice raises over the wind's howling.

Allison was already hugging herself to conserve heat, turning her face away from the wind but it did little to aid her.

"Some of it was still here, deep under the rock. We had to dig for weeks!" Bishop continues, casually walking around her with his back at the breathtaking vista to stare down at the rocks beneath his feet.

She can't feel her face and her hearing is fading. She's too cold to question why the bodyguards, dressed only in their expensive suits, seem immune to the frost.

"And you know what one one of those bastards did to it last time they were here?" Bishop asks, snapping his fingers at one of the soldiers and gesturing at her.

There some reluctant shuffling but a pale jacket is draped over her shoulders lightly. The man who had sacrificed his clothing quickly scurries back through the metal door like a frightened mouse.

Allison pulls it against her, shoving her frozen arms through the sleeves and snapping the buttons closed since her freezing hands couldn't do the zip up. She's swimming in it, but the length of the sleeves is enough to cover her poor hands and the hood goes well over her forehead.

Now that her body doesn't feel like it's slowly shutting down and her teeth had stopped chattering, she can think again.

Bishop was still looking at her expectantly, but in her relief at finally getting warm, she had forgotten his question.

"They blew the damn place up." he answers, shaking his head like a preschool teacher who can't get a desired reaction from his students.  
"Or, I suppose _im_ ploded it…"

"Cleared enough room to build this lab though. Carved an almost perfect sphere in the belly of the mountain. Now what kind of device is capable of doing _that_?" he muses, gloved hand rubbing at his chin.

"Unfortunately, they also cost us all the assets we'd almost acquired upon discovery of the ancient temple. Priceless specimens. The only true perfect organisms, no doubt about it. The ones we made now are flawed _imitations_." 

She feels her stomach drop, nausea flooding her mouth with bitterness.

"Have you encountered them? The recordings we have are unfortunately short and in very poor lighting, but they are humanoid with dark, chitinous skin, impervious to most weapons."

Allison takes a step away from the raving old man, he couldn't mean…

<<Kainde amedha.>> she whispers, the name slipping from her tongue with ease now. That is what the hunters call the monsters that had almost killed her twice now.

"Is that what they're calling it? Hmph, doesn't sound very scientific." Bishop pulls a stocky little device out of his jeans and clicks a button on it, then clicks it again.  
How long had he been recording her?

"Do they worship these… kaeend-y amedaz?" he stumbled through the pronunciation, wincing at his own mistakes. "Or perhaps harvest them? I've been informed they're used for sports hunting, but that can't be right. Why waste the biomass for simple trophies? We've made _leaps_ just analyzing traces of old blood and saliva!" he looks at her with naked curiosity, almost giddy with glee.

"You're insane…" she murmurs.

Bishop's smile drops and his face turns stony.  
"I see you do not understand the _privilege_ you've been given. Why are the most amazing of gifts always wasted on the _ignorant_ and _undeserving_?" he raves at the sky.

"Your bloodwork doesn't lie, Miss Cho. You are _more_ than human. You've been given strength and vitality beyond what anyone here might ever even _dream_ to aspire to!"  
He paces the slushy ground in front of her, already trampled and muddy brown from all the people who'd come out for a smoke or just to stretch their legs, expensive boots squelching when he turns towards her.

"Cracked ribs, internal bleeding, hypothermia - even frostbite, and yet here you are, not even a week later, with all your extremities - the image of health! Capable of fending off hired killers twice your size. Even poor David here had trouble subduing you alone." he looks behind her at the blonde she'd fought who was methodically righting his ripped clothes - which were not cooperating in the least.

"Is this why you're so reluctant to talk? Afraid your new friends will take away all they've given you? They are quite secretive… Or maybe you just don't want to share, and the knowledge you - !" he breaks off into another coughing fit, doubling over with one hand over his mouth while the other clutches at his chest. There's an audible, heavy, wheeze whenever he tries to take a deep breath. It gets so bad Bishop stumbles and almost falls to the dirty ground, catching himself at the last moment 

One of the blonde guys, the one with the ripped shirt and missing a few buttons who is apparently named David, tries to help the old man, but his offered hand is slapped away as Bishop curses. The fit has finally run its course and he is once more staring at her. There is hatred and envy in his gaze. And a hunger unlike anything she has ever seen.  
She smells it before she sees the thick red substance oozing between his fingers. His mouth and hand are covered in blood, frothing pink and phlegmy.

The other bodyguard, _not_ -David, gun still out but pointing down, offers the old man a small canister. A tiny, portable oxygen tank. Bishop fits the transparent mask at the top of it over his face and takes a deep breath.

".. what…" he rasps out, teeth stained red and lips wobbly. He takes a moment to remove the mask, return the canister to the guard and wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood all over his fancy coat sleeve.

"What is that bead at the back of your neck?" he asks and Allison's hand shoots up to touch the little bump that is normally hidden by her hair.

"It doesn't show up on any scans." he sighs halfway through his sentence, it sounds like there's still liquid in his lungs. "Your nurse thinks it may be releasing hormones." 

She frowns at him, if she tells the truth, that she has no idea, she'll probably be called a liar or a traitor again.  
She's so tired of being yelled at by strange old men.

"Is it how they track you? In case you get away?" he continues, voice settling into a more normal cadence.

"I'll get all your secrets, and theirs, _one_ way or another." Bishop chuckles weakly, hanging on to his bodyguard's shoulder, then mutters something to the taller man.

Both twins turn to her in tandem and begin approaching. She has the distinct impression her time outside has come to an end.

\----------

Approximately 600 kilometers above, just at the limit of where the Earth's exospehere begins and barometric conditions no longer apply to the objects orbiting the planet; a sleek, dark and vaguely tear-shaped vessel of unknown origins monitors all activity over a small strip of mountainous ground.  
The ship is powered down, its six engines turned off as it floats in a precisely calculated trajectory above its targeted area.

The singular living being inhabiting the vessel is quiet as he checks incoming reports, logs surface activity and attempts to puzzle out his preys location based on its last known coordinates and broken up tracking data.

He clicks and hums to himself in thought, burying his increasing frustration behind hundreds of years worth of hunts and learned patience.  
He had tracked the crumbs left by his quarry all the way to a lonely star system not far from this one, but had suddenly lost tracking data as all traces had vanished, wiped from existence by a perilous shift through space-time. 

But the being, a hunter of hunters, was as cunning as he was patient and had predicted where his prey might flee to take shelter.   
It did not matter that his first guesses had been flawed, but that he was now caught up to them.  
If only that weak fool hadn't disregarded his orders.

He had set ahead of them, through the much faster and safer pre-historical Gates that his kind used to traverse the known universe to search all possible exit locations, leaving succint instructions at the garrisons there to apprehend any foreign vessels at once, even ones piloted by respected Elders.

N'ithya had seemed too obvious of a choice for said Elder, but he had set out to investigate it either way, arriving just in time to send out an order to the Clan-ship closest.

How unfortunate that soft-hearted fool had stood in his way.  
There was no bargaining with ic'jit, he knew that better than anyone, but the misguidedly loyal Captain had hesitated and it had cost the Arbitrator his prey.

The acting Captain would get his due, but right now Kuj’hade had more important matters to attend to. A mission coming directly from an Ancient. A woman of great honor and renown, the fairest of all their leaders - in the strictest sense. The one who had recommended him for the responsibility of Arbitrator so many spans ago.

To his great shame, he had already failed her once, unable to retrieve the sniveling primitive she sought.   
He could not understand the fascination with the little whelp. Certainly, it could be argued that it had some sense of bravery, but it was a lowly creature with no honor, unworthy of the muck on his boots, let alone an Ancient's consideration.

Still, Kuj’hade knew not to question beyond his status, one did not reach such honor as his by doubting one's betters.  
If honorable Ancient Tjau'viath wanted him to capture the vermin, he would - and _crush_ all those who stood in his way.

He struck the arm-rest of his seat in fury, denting the metal, then shook out his throbbing hand.

Oh how he would savor dispatching the runt and dissolving his scattered remains in acid. No one needed to know. Kuj’hade would take no trophy, but he would have his revenge.

He could still remember the humiliation he felt upon waking up, face-down in the mud and blinded in one eye.

He knew it was the runt who had struck him down. The recording on his mask hadn't captured the act, but he'd heard the muffled conversation and his prey's screams of agony before it had suddenly stopped.  
By the time the Arbitrator had woken up, there was no trace of the ooman, the hound or even his attacker's footprints.  
He'd been knocked out, unconscious and vulnerable and allowed to survive. It was the greatest insult.

He'd refused to present this damning evidence to the Ancient, claiming it did not exist, simply because it would have shamed him even more than admitting to failure. It wouldn't stand for judgement purposes either way, lacking visuals.

Ancient Tjau'viath had simply stared at his remaining eye, bearing down her full disapproval on him, and issued the order for capture.

He would not fail her a _second_ time.

  
The blue planet beneath him hosted his three fugitives, all he had to do was be patient and they would reveal themselves. It was impossible for the primitive to hide for too long, eventually it would resurface. As long as it lived, and there were signs that it had survived, he could track it with the signal receiver the Ancient had so generously gifted him with.

He had been unable to get too close to the main crash site, where the ooman's vitals had last been registered. The place was crawling with more of its kind and all the clanships had agreed to remain hidden and monitor the pe-ghwie, unwilling to escalate the situation further.

All his arguments and official missive were shot down, the Clan Leaders or their representatives had judicial and executive power here. Unless the entire Council of Ancients overrode them, there was _nothing_ Kuj’hade could do but wait.

His tusks clicked and grinded behind his mask. The thought of his prey, unworthy as it was, slipping from his grasp made him thirst for blood. He had earned his namesake for a reason, wherever Kuj’hade went, Cetanu was welcome to feast and idleness only made him more brutal.

The holographic interface before him heated to life. A spike of activity had been picked up by the receiver he'd connected to his ship's sensors, amplifying it's range with much more powerful broadband receptors capable of picking up even the faintest of signs.

His prey was alive.   
Vitals sprung up next to the three dimensional heat map as he maneuvered it with his claws to get a better look at the terrain.   
It was anxious, and _very_ cold.

His ship's cloaking activated at the flick of a claw. It was normally nigh impossible to spot, being small and fast, made of special materials that hid it from detection and shaped in a way that could be mistaken as a simple visual anomaly or a small oblong asteroid, but he did not wish to risk discovery, from the oomans or the clanships.

Kuj’hade sped through the Earth's atmosphere as fast as he dared, his prey was alive and stuck atop a mountain. One that happened to be a demolished site for an old proving ground, now rent obsolete by the runt himself upon his chiva according to his holo-map's detailed report.

The Arbitrator smiled sharply behind his mask, satisfied purr rumbling along with the ship's soft beeps and quiet buzz of descent, he might even have time to hunt for revenge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> kainde amedha = hardmeat (xenomorphs)
> 
> N'ithya = Earth
> 
> ic'jit = Badblood
> 
> pe-ghwie = primitive
> 
> -
> 
> Kuj’hade - Destroyer
> 
> Tjau'viath - Sandstorm
> 
> Cetanu - The Black Hunter/Death (deity)
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N  
> Got this one out on time, yay me!
> 
> Looks like there's trouble headed down Allison's way, eh?
> 
> Did I italicize too many words?  
> Bishop is supposed to be a little hammy and unhinged. The failed clone of the long gone Weyland, who has inherited his disease.
> 
> I headcanon him as the prototype for the intended inheritor of part of Weyland's empire, who would later be replaced by androids by the people still running the Company.


	24. Play with fire

James is waiting for them when the elevator doors open. He only allows her a cursory glance, noting the thick, too-large jacket carelessly discarded on the floor by not-David and the rumpled appearance of the blonde she'd scuffled with.   
There are a half-dozen men behind him, she recognizes the one who had reported the team hunting for Hulk missing. They all stand at attention and don't seem very pleased to see Bishop.

"I wasn't notified the Company was sending a representative." the Agent says, tone polite and neutral. 

"And I never agreed to your promotion." Bishop rasps.

James narrows his eye, the bruised one still looks awful but whatever he'd done to treat it has reduced the swelling dramatically.

"Miss Cho, if you would join me?" he addresses her while still facing Bishop with unwavering focus, like the older man is a snake poised to strike the moment he is no longer under direct supervision.

The bodyguards keeping a firm grip on her biceps don't even flinch.

"Unless you want our organizations to… part ways, you'd better release my charge before -"

"Before you _what_? Go crying to your bosses? Oh, Agent, as if you'd ever have the power to do anything. The CIA knows it's my people, my money and _my_ tech driving this little venture forward. Without me you'd still be digging through rocks." Bishop taunts, waving his hand forward in a dismissive gesture.

James tilts his head, a lock of stray hair falling sideways as he raises an eyebrow at the old man. The beginning of a michievious grin gives his features a boyish sort of charm.

"It's true you own all the means of research…" he admits, smile now dimpling his cheek. "... for now."

The corners of Bishop's mouth curl in disgust. "Even if I die, you'll still have to deal with my successor."

" _When_ you die." James corrects him, shrugging nonchalantly. "And you never know… maybe someone, somewhere will decide outside management is more hindrance than help after a few more complaints..." he steps forward, looking down his nose at the much shorter Bishop.

"We do quite well with confiscated assets." James leaves the threat hanging in the air, smile gone.

Bishop coughs in his hand and then wipes it on the Agent's chest, smearing a bit of blood and mucus on his immaculate suit jacket. James doesn't back away or give any sign of displeasure, simply staring the old man down untill he snaps his fingers and Allison feels her forearms and hands tingling as blood comes rushing back into her limbs.

She tries not to run, settling for a brisk power-walk to the Agent's side.   
He backs away from Bishop a few steps then turns on the old man. The latter's lips are only a thin line, fists balled up.  
She's half afraid he'll sick his weirdo bodyguards on the Agent.

"And tell your lapdog that if he or any of his tries to spy on, interrogate or harass my charge - _or_ interfere in any way with my mission again, no one will find them once I'm through." he warns as he walks away.

Bishop barks a laugh as Allie trails after the Agent, unsure wether she's better off with James at all.

"I'd watch myself if I were you, Mister _James Adler_ … well, that isn't your real name, of course, Misses Davies wanted you to keep your father's name didn't she?" Bishop simpers, crooked grin satisfied, like the cat that caught the canary.

James' flinch is barely there, but Bishop rasps a low laugh at the sight anyway.   
Bishop's bodyguards reach for their hidden weapons at the same moment the men backing James up touch their rifles.

Just as the young Agent turns, careful blankness replaced by pale fury, there is a rumble that shakes down the elevator shaft, which groans and echoes, reverberating dully.

"The hell…" one of of the men loyal to James mutters.

Another clang, this one louder, travels down the tunnel followed by a small tremor that flickers the lights and sends bits of plaster falling from corners.

At the third banging noise, small fissures and cracks run along the ceiling and walls, starting from the elevator entrance and radiating out like hair-thin roots. It is also when the alarms start blearing, this time with red lights pulsing and a mechanized voice saying something about a security breach.

"Get her back to her room and barricade yourselves in. No one gets past you." James orders three of his men.

"She won't be safe there, you know where the only impenetrable rooms of this facility are." Bishop intervenes, his guards close on his heels.

"I don't have time for this Bishop, we're under attack."

"And what better place to catch our attacker that the X-wing? It's the only place capable of holding the specimen!" 

"That thing is knocking down our door and you still want to catch it?!"

"Why do you think I called it here? Clearly, neither your men nor mine can get a hold of it outside."

"Y-you… what…" Allison stammers, eyes widening in realization as her hand goes up to touch the hard little bump at the base of her neck. He'd asked if it was a tracker, maybe he'd been right.  
Her emotions are in conflict, a part of her is almost happy that Hulk would come for her, while another fears for him and the people stuck in an underground deathtrap and yet another wants to punch him in his crabby face for having her chipped like some stray cat. Now she knows what Pumpkin felt like after his visits with the vet.

James looks between her and Bishop in confusion before he catches on too. He is a blur of charcoal gray as he grabs onto Bishop by the lapels of his white shirt and slams him against the wall. The old man coughs a laugh at the impact, David and not-David immediately pulling James off and restraining him. The men behind draw their weapons out and point them at Bishop.

"We don't have time for this!" Allison yells, drawing all the attention back to her. "You need to let me go before he comes down here and starts killing people. Just let us go and no one will be harmed, he doesn't hurt the unarmed or unworthy." she tries to reason. There are too many people who would get in his way, but maybe if she asks him, Hulk would leave them alone. She's ready to invoke her Debt if she has to.

" _Now_ she talks." Bishop grumbles as his bodyguards release James at his small gesture.

There's another loud bang and a drawn out, muffled scream growing closer and louder down the shaft for a few tense seconds before something hits the top of the elevator with a disgustingly wet smack.

"What do you propose?" James finally asks, to her dismay.

\----------

The scent of fresh blood surrounds him, warmth seeping out of the bodies of his enemies as Hul'gkan finally retracts his combi-stick, done with the grim duty of finishing off the stragglers in the name of mercy.   
He spreads his arms wide, roaring in victory.   
His labored breath puffs out in misty, hot streams of air through his mask's filters.

He is tired beyond words, fresh wounds marring his hide and weary of yet more ooman hunters popping up when he least expects them.  
He is reluctant to leave he site of his battle like this, but he lacks the resources to dispose of all the bodies so he must allow nature to reclaim the flesh.  
No amount of cleanup would have cleared this area either way. In order to finally defeat his pursuers, Hul'gkan had planted a few corrosive capsules meant for hardmeat disposal from his medikit in strategic locations, eroding the bedrock and thick roots beneath a large swath of loose ground where he had made his last stand.  
He'd drawn the oomans after him, taunting them by waiting out in the open and then fleeing through a practiced route while the noisy prey stampeded right into his trap.

With most of the hunters buried under tons of earth, picking the few survivors off had been manageable, even with the new gunshot wounds ripping through the muscles of his abdomen and back.

The wounds still bled freely, his body's natural ability to heal hampered by the cold, exhaustion and lack of nutrition. He'd already used the regenerative serum and even if he had another dose it would have been a risk to take it so soon after the first. There were stories of warriors who'd won their momentary struggles only to die without honor a few hours later due to blood clots reaching their brains.

A severed thigh lay near his feet, the splatters of muddy blood around it already starting to freeze.

Hul'gkan chuffs in irritation. Ooman meat was said to be disgusting, full of disease, growth hormones and preservatives from their own unhealthy diets. He would not debase himself so.   
Surely, he could catch some wild animal of this forest.   
Waiting until the smell of blood drew predators to him would be unwise, another batch of ooman hunters could just as easily appear and all his effort would have been in vain.

No, he needs to relocate and somehow find -

A rustle draws his attention to the trees further down the slope. Out of the corner of one eye, he catches a flutter of cold snow falling to the ground.

Hul'gkan watches the trees, the interface of his mask already showing heat and movement scans are in effect, searching for the disturbance.

There is a drawn out moment of silence, the kind of quiet that is brimming with anticipation and the potential for violence. The hushed air between predator and prey just before the pounce.

The spikes on his shoulders and back bristle as all his senses come alight. 

He is being watched. 

He finds the feeling unfamiliar and disturbing, moreso than when the oomans were on his trail. Whatever is watching him now knows how to hide itself, how to stalk its prey.  
Is this how the sapients his kind hunted felt like?

But he was no mere _prey_. Fear could not take root in his hearts if he did not allow it.

His ki'cti-pa re-engages at the twitch of a claw, extending back into it's most lethal form, still splattered with flecks of red thwei. The being in the trees reveals itself by laughing, a deep chittering sound that is both familiar and annoying in equal measure.

Memories of his childhood flash at the back of his mind. He is too disciplined to allow them to dominate his awareness.  
  
Uneven fights, the pain of a broken mandible, a truce forged by the carcass of a great herbivore, nights spent under the waning sunlight, getting drunk with his brothers after escaping curfew.   
The disastruous quatza-rij hunt and almost being exiled together.

<<Akr'dtai...>> he remembers.

<<So you have not forgotten me after all, mei'hswei.>> the voice echoes from behind him now, making him turn to face the form of the ic'jit he once called brother emerging from between the dark trees.

<<You are no brother of mine.>> Hul'gkan growls. Ic'jit are without Clan, without honor. He would rather be dead than exiled.

<<Mhhhrrr, sei-i, you haven't changed at all… _brother._ >> he taunts with another one of his irritating laughs.

Hul'gkan resists the urge to bellow a challenge and attack the ic'jit. He is already weakened and cannot be so foolish as to engage in a risky battle with a skilled foe while little Fire Eyes is still lost to him.

<<What are you doing here?>> he asks at the same time as Akr'dtai demands: <<Where is my sire?>>

Both warriors pause to regard each other. One is a dark, lithe smudge against the snow, the other larger and brilliantly colored, standing out like a flame. Opposites in appearance and temperament, trained by the same great Elder.

  
Hul'gkan shakes his mangled mane. <<Why seek honorable Elder Iktaha'rg?>>

<<Pah...honorable...>> the ic'jit scoffs. <<My business is my own. You were on the downed ship were you not? Why else would the oomans be chasing you. Tell me where the old relic is and I will allow you to live.>> Akr'dtai offers, firsts curling and uncurling as though he is struggling to hold himself back.

<<Ell-osde pauk! _You_ were the one who shot at us!>> Hul'gkan curses.

<<Sei-i… and I have come to finish the task. My sire will taste the humiliation and pain I have lived through when he abandoned me. You have wronged me too, brother, but your crimes pale in comparrison to his. I am willing to overlook them as long as you cooperate, but stand in my way and I will allow the scavengers of this cold place to feast on your corpse!>>

Hul'gkan's bark of laughter is loud and bitter. His ic'jit brother growls in aggression, the twitch in his muscles giving away just how thin his patience has been stretched.  
Akr'dtai had never been good at keeping his head. He can't imagine the man's patience ever improving as a rogue if the Elder's discipline hadn't gotten through. But change was inevitable, even for hotbloods like his former brother, and it had been a long time since the two had spoken.

<<You are too late.>> the Blooded warrior confesses, shoulders slumping in grief despite his best efforts to conceal his own feelings. <<Iktaha'rg was lost in the crash...>>

Akr'dtai stills and his chest deflates somewhat. He remains silent for a few heartbeats, looking lost in the cold, the wind whistling between them like a wail.

<< _H'ko_! You lie!>> the ic'jit bellows suddenly, taking a running leap at his brother to slash at him with an old pair of dah'kte.  
Hul'gkan parries the blow with his combi-stick, elbow twinging in pain at the force of it and backing away from the sudden attacked to give himself some space to maneuver.

<<Tell me where my sire is!>> Akr'dtai demands, dropping into a crouch to avoid Hul'gkan's swipe and striking out with an outstretched leg, hooking the smaller man's foot.

Hul'gkan slips, unbalanced, and falls on his back in the frozen mud.

The ic'jit capitalizes on his advantage and punches down with his wristblades, forcing Hul'gkan to bring his spear out to catch the wicked double knives before they skewer him through the chest.

<<Speak!>> Akr'dtai yells above him, mask venting out plumes of mist around his head.

Hul'gkan heaves and, with herculean effort, throws the man off him with a well placed kick in the sternum, giving himself time to rise once more into a fighting stance.

His brother carries the scent of coppery blood, he has hunted oomans while looking for Hul'gkan, but is still far more fresh and ready for a battle than he.

The shorter man's breath comes in short, labored huffs. His wounds are still trickling blood and his entire body hurts. He cannot be felled now, not by an ic'jit. Not when Ah-lee has yet to be retrieved.

Akr'dtai wipes at the hot thwei welling from his chest where Hul'gkan's claws had gouged holes deep into the muscles.

<<You will regret not taking my offer, little brother.>> the ic'jit threatens lowly, squaring his hips, shifting his center of gravity down and brandishing his blades.

Hul'gkan roars in challenge and throws himself at his former brother, desperation fueling his waning strength.

\----------

The X-wing is a massive laboratory, separated by the rest of the compound by huge metal doors and walls that are seemingly dug directly into the rough rock of the mountain.  
  
She had been rushed here by James, who is now apparently working with Bishop.  
Judging by the sour looks they give each other and the wariness the rest of the soldiers have towards the freaky bodyguards, this alliance is not particularly solid.

Here is where all the scientist seem to work, there are dozens of them milling about in sealed rooms, analyzing samples, running simulations or holding meetings in the various see-through glass rooms sectioned off from the main corridor that gave the impression of going on forever.

The walls are thick, like the bullet-proof glass in airports.

Broken pieces of alien technology of indeterminate purpose dot the various tables or are stored in special cases along with engraved slabs of stone carrying the distinct geometrical cuneiform text of Hulk's people. Everything looks distinctly ancient and yet uncannily advanced.

The scientists all scurry away at the same time after looking up at the speakers mounted at the corners of the rooms - which must be soundproof since nothing can be heard on her side.

There are also a lot of soldiers present. Most of them have been left outside, but a large group armed with semi-automatic rifles, strange, bulky dart guns and even a mounted turret guard the inside as well.

The disinfectant smell stings her nose and the general layout of the place, with lots of strange machines and locked, opaque rooms, remind her uncomfortably of Doctor Death's experiments on her.  
If they catch Hulk, will she be stuck in a place like this for the rest of her life? Bishop had seemed to want her alive, probably to examine her. To find her 'secrets'.

It is not a favorable outlook, but she's survived too long to be tempted to end it all now.

She is happy to see nurse Robin greet them as they head further into the facility. Their presence is unexpected - Allison had assumed the little nurse was there just to monitor her.

Robin walks up to the Agent and exchanges a few whispered yet heated words with him while Bishop takes a seat on an abandoned chair next to a tray full of empty vials, his bodyguards hovering close by.

"What the _hell_ is he doing here?" Robin hisses with uncharacteristic vitriol. While the nurse is quick to throw withering glances and judgy looks, they have never been outright hostile to anyone before, not even the Agent.

Both seem unaware that Allison can still hear them, despite being a good distance away from the main group who are waiting in a side-room.

  
"I'd like to know that too. But we don't have time for bureaucratic inquiries, I'm relatively certain the bastard just called hell on our heads." James mumbles back.

"What'd he do?"

"Took her outside."

"Shit." 

"Yeah."

"Are we gonna die here…" Robin's face pales as their eyes widen, looking up at the Agent with a sort of longing Allison is suddenly half ashamed and half jealous to witness.

"Not if I have something to say about it." he assures, hand squeezing their shoulder tenderly. "We've still got the reserves on site, my men here and Bishop's toys. This lab is probably the best insulated on the continent and we've got enough sedatives to drown in."

"But, James…" it is the first time she hears Robin use his first name, it sounds intimate in a way that makes her turn from them. She doesn't want to eavesdrop on their conversation anymore.  
"This place was made to keep things in, not…"

"We'll figure something out. There's got to be a way to beat this thing, it's not the first time one was successfully captured and it's coming right into our safe. Plus, the… last reports… said it was injured." the Agent trails off.  
Allison wants to scream at him for answers, beg him to let her go again or maybe rip his head off for hurting Hulk - she's not sure.  
"Just make sure to stay away from the chaos." 

"But I could help, if people get hurt…" Robin pleads.

"No. This is non-negociable. I don't want you anywhere near the fight." his tone is forbidding and uncustomary to their former dynamic, Robin only nods their head.  
"You can help prep the containment chamber." James offers in an attempt to placate.

"What about Allie… shouldn't she come with me?"

If she wasn't kept hostage, the sentiment might have actually been touching.

"She's probably the only one safe from that thing. Whatever's going on, it wants her alive and healthy. We knew it was after her when Wilks brought her. You saw what state she was in. It _wanted_ us to help her. And now it's coming back to collect."

Robin gulps, letting their head hit the Agent's chest.   
He'd removed the blood-stained jacket once they'd sealed the main access gate of the laboratory and his no longer perfectly pressed white shirt, courtesy of the weirdo twins, sat snugly over a thin undershirt that looked to be padded, probably some sort of safety vest, and the muscles of his arms.  
She had been right that the suit hid a strong build under all that dark fabric.

Robin says their goodbyes and leaves James behind to hurry deeper into the facility.  
The Agent rejoins the group, Bishop's mocking cough-laugh jarring her ears.

"Well I'll be damned. Never thought you'd be so unprofessional, Agent." 

Allison wants to slap the old man on Robin's behalf.

"Status?" James completely ignores his mocking remark, pressing something at his ear and speaking into the cuff of his shirt.

She can hear a low buzzing that might be a voice accented by rapid gunshots coming from his ear but she cannot make the words out.

"Please repea-" James winces as a sharp screech is heard from his hidden earpiece that even Bishop picks up on.

"What's going on?" the old man stands.

James continues to ignore him as his men motion for everyone to start backing up.

"Sir, we lost contact with the vanguard team." the boy from before reports.

"Hold on, Bravo team's on the retreat." James quiets his men.

Allison's nerves are frying, she's bouncing on her toes, antsy as hell. If she can slip them, get to those massive doors and confront Hulk, maybe she'll be able to stop the carnage.

Something doesn't feel right though. The direct approach had never been his forté. He'd always insisted it was the riskiest way to hunt. And if he was really hurt then he would have waited for them to bring her out like bait again or tried to find an alternative way in.

Then again, if this place only had one entry and exit point, he might have been forced to act out of character.

"What do you mean?" James mutters into his cuff. "How can it-"

An earthquake shudders through the hallway, rattling delicate glass vials and shattering a few unsecured beakers. Bishop is being held up by one of the twins and she holds on to the suddenly feeble looking wall to keep upright.

"James." she calls. "You need to let me go before he kills everyone."  
He looks at her with those solemn hazel eyes, a tic twitching in his jaw.

"No, this is just what we need!" Bishop interrupts. "Let him in and close the door behind. She can lead him right into the containment chamber." He points the way Robin had went while hanging off not-David.

"Remember the accounts in Val Verde and LA. She's right, they don't kill the unarmed. All we have to do is lay down our weapons, put her in a cage and it'll walk right in to get her." Bishop raves, bloody spittle dripping from his lips.

Allison takes a few steps back, using everyone's revolted reaction to slip behind the Agent's armed men.

"No. Something's up. I'm getting conflicting reports. Whatever's out there has way more firepower than our target."

"Does it matter? It's still one of them! We can catch it. Imagine what we could learn-"   
Another boom rattles, this time unbalancing more people as though they are closer to the epicenter. Some of the walls crack under the strain. 

Allison stumbles out of the room in the chaos.

She books it down the hallway, running as fast as she can.  
Due to the transparent walls her absence is quickly noted and she can hear James calling after her, Bishop yelling in denial and heavy footsteps starting behind her.

Her flight takes her closer to the huge metal wall, the men there glancing back and turning their guns on her once they spot her.  
She starts to skid to a sudden stop, arms held high to show she was no threat - when the gate begins to smoke in a partial, wide oval starting from the bottom and rounding up to about eight feet then dipping down again.

There's a subtle hissing noise that gets louder as the smoke thickens while they all stare.

David and not-David had reached her, grabbing her once more by the upper arms. She is too transfixed to struggle.

The hissing sputters to a stop and the smoke clears, revealing a red-hot outline that glows menacingly.

The soldiers manning the gate slowly back away, weapons ready.

A heavy thunk sounds from the other side, then another and another and what she has come to recognize as irate clicking.  
Finally the metal gives way, flying out a good twenty feet and crushing the unfortunate bastard in its path.

She knows the figure emerging from the dark smoke is not Hulk simply because he is too tall and broad. But he is still terrifyingly familiar, eyeplates shinning malevolently from a shadowed mask.

The heavily armored hunter from the jungle steps into view, the one who had beaten her and almost killed Spike. Who both Hulk and Gramps feared and from whom Big Red had sent her running.

She can feel his cruel orange eye on her even through his mask's cover. He's come for her, even all the way down here, in the belly of the mountain.

Allison digs her heels into the thin carpet and pushes against the twins, a mad burst of strength born of terror spurring her into throwing them off to turn and run the way she came.

The machinegun rattles in a short burst but is quickly silenced. Agonized screams fill the hallway as the monster lays waste to all the hapless fools in his way.

His cruel laugh lends her flight desperate speed, but she knows she is trapped. A mouse locked tight in a cage with a hungry lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> ki'cti-pa = combistick/extendable spear
> 
> thwei = blood
> 
> quatza-rij = a prized target on the Homeworld, used for ceremonial masks if the hunters who killed it reach a certain age/rank
> 
> mei'hswei = brother (not stricly a blood relation)
> 
> Ic'jit = Badblood(s)
> 
> sei-i = yes
> 
> Ell-osde pauk! = Fuck you!/Fucker!
> 
> h'ko = no
> 
> dah'kte = wristblades
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> Hello!
> 
> I'm quite ashamed this took so long to get out.  
> Writers block is a bitch.
> 
> I can make no promises that the next one will be in a week, but I'll do my best.


	25. Seek and destroy

Not-David catches up to her first on her right and outpaces her smoothly, heading towards the room Bishop is holed up in, no doubt.

She can see David's shoulder bob along next to her on her left, either slowing down purposefully or hindered by the knee she'd wanted to crush not even an hour ago.

Her mind is a whirl of terror and despair.   
There is nowhere to run and no place to hide that she won't be found, but she flees anyway.

The awful sounds behind her are drowned out by her own frantic heartbeats. She concentrates on her breathing and the way her whole body shudders as her booted feet thump the floor.

The group she'd come with are already hurrying along towards the end of the corridor. Not-David is carrying Bishop and she zips past them before James has a chance to say anything. Allison knows they are behind her if only because there is nowhere else to go.

The reinforced hospital-style double doors at the end begin to open slowly and she squeezes past through the crack before anyone else.

She stumbles to a stop to catch her breath, hands braced on her slightly bent knees and leaning forward while the others catch up.

"Allison!" Robin calls from across the room. "What happened?"

"… Hide… *huff*… you need to…" she tries, still breathless.

Allison straightens slowly with a groan, her spleen is killing her, and takes a proper look around her for the first time.  
The chamber she is in is made up of different materials than the rest of the lab. The walls are metallic, with a dull shine to them as though they are coated in lead, or made of it. Most of the people present are also wearing thick, lumpy looking suits that remind her of surgery costumes but stockier and made of a darker material with what looks like plates of something rigid sown underneath.

Robin is similarly equipped, except their helmet and facemask is off, expression baffled and concerned.

"I think I heard screaming, what the hell is going on back there?" they ask, turning back to watch as James and the rest pile in and struggle to swing the heavy doors back.

"Robin, listen to me." Allison grabs the nurse by their slight shoulders, bending a little at the waist to be at eye level.  
"Go to the farthest corner of this place and hide. He's coming and he'll kill you all." tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She doesn't want to go with the monster but distracting him might be the only way to save the one person - the one human - who has shown her kindness in a very long time.

"But-"

"Get her in the biggest holding cell, we need to draw this thing in before it comes knocking." James huffs as he and a couple of other soldiers push a giant piece of machinery over the metallic double doors.  
"This won't hold for long." he shakes his head, the ends of his usually neat hair wet with sweat.

"Sir, that's not the specimen we were hunting. This is -" the youngest of his backup comes forward, face pale and eyes wide.

"I saw it, Jones. Now we need to do something about it."

"But it cut through all our defenses like they were cheese! How can we-"

"I'm _trying_ to figure that out…" James sighs.

The noises of gunshots, which now sound like faint pops from beyond the doors have yet to stop. Whoever's left out there is putting up a good fight. But she knows it's all for nothing.

"We can't beat it with conventional weapons, so we need to outsmart it." Bishop says, pushing to his feet from where he was slumped against the wall, David still as a statue beside him. Where was the other one?

Allison barks a laugh and juts her chin at Robin to go. The little nurse hesitates for a second before James nods and they shuffle out one of the side-doors to the many rooms branching out like roots into the cold rock of the mountain.

"You trapped us here with him!" she points an accusing finger at Bishop, anger quickly taking over. The others seem to agree, judging by their hard looks and clenched jaws.  
"No matter how smart you think you are, he'll still be too strong to take down. Believe me, I've tried - and it almost cost me my life."

Some of the men share worried looks, rifles held tightly in front of them.  
The old man is indifferent to her anger and the shifting mood of the people around him, pushing off the wall to stand up straight and check his expensive watch.

" _Almost_ , you say…?" Bishop trails off, looking at her with a mad glint in his eyes.

She doesn't feel not-David come up behind her and grab her.  
His arms wrap around her, pinning her own to her sides before she can elbow him in the sternum. She struggles momentarily, but gives up in the end. There was no point either way, there is nowhere to run.

"You must be quite the catch, miss Cho, to draw the attention of such a powerful individual, in addition to your friend." the old man hums a laugh, retreating further into the lead rooms.  
James reaches a hand out but stops at Bishop's curt shake of his head.

Not-David pushes her forward from behind, practically carrying her along and following Bishop as they pass by cramped observation rooms lining either side of yet another corridor. This one more narrow and oppressively gray.  
The observation windows have shutters at the top and a big 'Emergency' button on each side. The rooms themselves are barren, the only sign that anything had been there consisting of strange pockmarks on the floor and sometimes on the walls, or a cracked window here and there.

"And here I thought the specimen we've been hunting was only after you for… _personal_ reasons." Bishop says, laughing at his own little joke. She can hear a disgusted 'eugh' coming from one of the soldiers behind her and she growls at the slight.

There's a strange smell in the air mingled with the stinging disinfectant and acrid human fearsweat.

"Still a valuable asset either way." he mocks.

Bishop has reached the end of the hallway, standing before an array of five sealed gray boxes about five feet tall and wide with tiny holes puncturing the sides. A tall but narrow cage stands behind them.  
The room is decorated with smooth wooden stands holding mostly intact alien weapons. She recognizes a spear and several throwing knives, three heavily damaged or half-crumbled gauntlets and a cracked obsidian mask, the rest looks like pieces of battered armor or chunks of inscribed hulls with some recognizable text on them. It looks like a trophy room, the center pieces being the boxes.

The scent is strongest here, a mix of the cloying sweetness of rot with a metallic aftertaste and something like wet animal.

"What deeper secrets do you hide, I wonder…"

He pats one of the boxes and it rattles violently, a familiar hissing filling the air and making her freeze.

_No. Not again_.

"I'd reckon he wants you alive too."

\----------

The God of Death shadows his every move as Kuj'hade unleashes himself on the primitives. It has been a long time since he's wrought carnage on this scale, he has craved it without even realizing.

The grueling wait of travel and patience and the frustrations of failure can finally be cleansed in the blood of his prey.

The oomans are petty little things, scrambling for a foothold he will not permit them, yelling in fright or screaming for nonexistent mercy as they are felled.  
Their weapons have damaged some of his armor but they are no match for his superior armaments. Perhaps they would stand a chance of success against a normal hunter, but Arbitrators are a breed of their own, adept at killing their kind - who are the apex predators of the known universe.

The primitives are excitingly dangerous in groups, but their numbers count against them when they are forced to fight in close quarters. Their little den of safety has become a slaughterhouse.

Kuj'hade laughs as he lets himself enjoy the moment.   
There is a delightful metallic tang on his tongue from the bloody mist, so fine it even gets through the filters of his mask, which remains of a body after his sivk'va-tai blasts it to oblivion. 

He revels, letting himself get lost in the motions. It is almost like a trance, the beauty of battle meditation brought to life.  
He had always been an expert in Mesh'in'ga, visualizing his success in a fight against any kind of opponent. A lifetime of practice and application had honed both body and mind, and even his very spirit, into the warrior he is now.

  
The give of flesh, sinew and bone under his double blades is a balm to his wounded ego.  
The sheer elation of ripping a foe in two as one of the primitives tries to foolishly get under his guard and plant explosives on him, ropy organs and viscera pouring out, have him rumbling in sarisfaction as his muscles flex and tense with the strain.

He is painted in blood from the tip of his head to the toes of his boots and he hasn't felt this alive in spans.

He takes his time savouring the hunt, it's not like his target has anywhere to go and he is in no hurry. May as well indulge.

The oomans give him just enough challenge that he can finally divest himself of all the accumulated frustrations - and keep true to the Honor Code.

  
He steps on a fallen primitive's head as the pitiful creature tries to push itself back and aim its projectile weapon at him in a final act of defiance.  
The crunch of bone and squelch of brain matter under his boot makes an amusing noise, his chitter echoing down the now empty hallway.

There is silence around him, not a movement or a groan resounds - only the occassional drip-drip of thwei from several spots on the ceiling where he had impaled some of the stragglers on their own guns.   
Once the bulk of the oomans had been dealt with, he'd allowed himself a little… creativity in his art.  
  
So that had been the last of the ooman guards.

He chuffs under his mask in disappointment, breathing heavily with exersion. He hadn't even begun to get bored and had just started breaking a sweat.

The hunter glances longingly down the hallway, hoping for some remnant form of resistance, but nothing stirs.

He scans the surrounding area, noting several heat signatures huddled in other rooms. None hold any recognizable weapons but they have witnessed too much of his kind's technology to be left alive.  
Still, there is no sport in running them down when a well-placed bomb could do the job just as well and get rid of any remaining artefacts too.

He takes stock of his own injuries next, running a careful scan over himself. Nothing grave - no broken bones, severed muscles or pierced organs. The flesh wounds he has sustained will make for a few good scars and he will have to repair parts of his armor.  
Perhaps he could commission a new one, if the Ancient was pleased with his work.

He doesn't even bother to slap some sealant over the deeper gashes as he continues towards the lead doors.

The clever little apes had made that part of their den well insulated against radiation and thus impossible for him to scan.

It would matter little in the end.

Kuj'hade shakes the blood off his blades with a jerk of his arm, ready for the next round of slaughter as he kicks the doors, only to swear under his tusks then his boot thumps dully on one of the unmoving doors. His ankle sends a jolt of pain up his leg.

Undeterred, he shoulders his way through, the screech of several metallic machines of unknown purpose grating against his aural canals as he slowly wedges the door open.

The space is larger inside, with small desks and primitive apparatus dotting the place in a previously organized fashion. It is clear someone had moved the objects around to create a maze of cover.

He cannot immediately spot any targets, the lead lining on the walls blocking his more advanced vision modes but the smell of them is obvious.

Ooman fear has a distinctive scent. It is spread throughout the enclosure, beckoning him to follow where it reeks strongest.   
He is so focused on the stinging sweat of terror that he does not register the other, subtler smell wafting down the narrow corridor lined with empty observation chambers.

Suddenly, just as he was approaching the end of the corridor, a wide entryway devoid of any lifesigns, a force slams into him from the front, tackling him with enough weight that he is pushed back several steps.

The figure before him barely has a heat signature as it pummels him wherever there is a wound or a bit of exposed hide.  
Kuj'hade growls when a fist drives into the bulletholes in his side, a particularly tender spot.

The figure moves fast - faster than any primitive he has faced today, and suddenly backs off, sliding to the side and keeping hold of his left arm to allow another cold body to slip under his guard and shove a slim barrel to shoot between the creases of his armor at the joint of his left shoulder.

He howls in pain as several bullets bite through his hide.  
He feels something deep in him ache as he shakes the offending attackers off and backhands them both into the wall.  
There is not enough space for him to maneuver now.

His breath feels wet. Proof that one of his lungs has been punctured.

Kuj'hade wastes no time and jumps on the nearest felled foe as the two scrabble against each other to rise.  
With his right hand, he grabs hold of what feels like a head, silky strands of synthetic hair slipping between his fingers and sticking to his blood stained skin as he twists and yanks.

The head comes off with a loud screech, spraying white, luminous substance everywhere. The smell of it is unpleasantly sweet.

<<Je'mar…>> he rumbles in surprise, holding the head up as its mouth clamps open and shut. When had oomans advanced enough to create artificial beings?

The other one slams back into him, getting a few shots off in the less protected area of his inner thigh, aiming for where a major artery would be in the body of its makers, before Kuj'hade runs it through with his blades.

It does not stop fighting even after he tears its whole arm off, gun and all, swinging its feet up to kick him in the wounds at his side again.

He bears the pain long enough to grab the offending limbs and pull.

The synthetic creature gives a gurgled whine as it is ripped apart, the connection between torso and legs strong enough that the deadly sharp blades cut up through it.

Kuj'hade throws the squiggling, bisected construct down with a splat, stepping on its remaining arm and crushing the synthetic flesh to stop its flailing.   
Both creatures still twitch, whatever remaining ties between their parts making them squirm uselessly where they have been discarded.

He feels insulted that the oomans thought mere artificial drones could fell him. And furious that they _almost_ did.

Small sounds alert him to the presence of more primitives as he enters the final chamber.  
He's had enough, it's time to get his quarry and return triumphant.

A small object is lobbed his way from his right flank and his sivk'va-tai makes short work of the explosive - which detonates prematurely in a shower of heat that overwhelms his limited vision. He does not see the other grenade thrown his way from his blind left side, and this one makes contact, the power of it sending him crashing to the side and burning the exposed hide on his left while peppering his armor with shrapnel.  
He howls in pain and ire, his visor already at work identifying the direction from which the explosives were thrown.

He would make the oomans eat their crude little bombs when he got his hands on them.  
  
Rapid fire has him hasten behind an upturned metal table, grabbing four small beads between the fingers of his undamaged right hand from a pouch on his utility belt.  
He throws them as he dives for cover, chuffing in satisfaction at the emitting squeals of pain as the beads activate and release a shower of thin spikes.

He raises and aims the plasmacaster at the three primitives squirming in pain but the shoulder canon gives a splutter of sparks as it overhearts.

Kuj'hade curses as he presses the corresponding buttons on the inside of his mask to retire the device back into it's casing. He hadn't waited long enough after the last charge. A beginner's mistake. Now it is useless untill he swaps out the dedicated power source at the base of the plasma-caster. Discarding the whole thing would be safest but he is reluctant to part with it - a modded and improved version of the typical Arbitrator gear is not easy to come by.

The other primitives rush to pull their brethren behind cover while he is distracted. Their luck is temporary, now they will only suffer more.

His wounded thigh burns as he leaps over the piles of upturned furniture and ruined machines, roaring his displeasure and slashing at the first body in his way.

He will do this the old fashioned way.

\----------

"Fuck." Allison mutters from the cage, hands over her face as she huddles in the farthest corner.  
The twins had shoved her in and locked her up, then left with James and his men on Bishop's orders.  
Abandoned with the old man, there was nothing else to do but wait.

Dismissed and alone, even amongst her own, she slumped to the floor and sat in silence while the others prepared to fight the monster.

She didn't even want to know what Bishop had planned for the creatures in the boxes.   
They had calmed down after the initial bout of aggression, giving faint hisses and chirps every now and then.   
Perhaps they were afraid.  
How strange to find something in common with the despicable monsters.

Gramps was gone. Hulk as most likely dead too. The people here had no hope of defeating the hunter from the jungle.

Allison shudders as she remembers the beating she'd taken back then. Spike's vivid dark blood on fallen leaves, flooding the muddy alien jungle floor.  
That malvolent orange eye boring down at her as his fist swung.

She would be taken again. Experimented on. Probably tortured by the sadistic fuck who'd torn this base apart afterward.  
He'd promised to skin her alive.

"What are you mumbling about?" Bishop's voice brings her out of her spiraling panic. She'd hadn't even noticed she'd been whispering denials, rocking herself back and forth as she waited for the inevitable.

"Leave me alone, old man." she mutters into her knees.

"Hah!" Bishop barks out, startling the animals and making them rattle in their boxes. "I might not look it, but I'm younger than you."

He cough-laughs at her puzzled look, wiping at his mouth with a heavily stained piece of white cloth.

"My… father, or brother? I can never tell - was a very important man, you see. Had me in the works while he went off and got himself killed." the rasp at the back of his throat lessens as he settles near one of the gray boxes, peering curiously through the pinholes but still keeping a cautious distance.  
"Couldn't go and let his company fall into anyone else's hands once he was too old to lead it, so he had me comissioned at his secret labs. I was supposed to be his legacy..." Bishop sounds wistful now, still looking at the hissing animals in their gloom but seeing through them.

"He didn't see the cancer coming to take him early enough." he chuckles weakly, agitating the creatures. One of them seems to immitate the sound.

"And whatever they did to speed up the aging process once he died… well, lets just say I _outdid_ him in that regard."

"How old are you?" she asks. His story has the makings of fiction and she'd never have believed it a couple of years ago, back when aliens were just sci-fi stories or conspiracy theories and the most threatening things in her life were careless drivers on mountain roads and slipping on the wet bathroom floor after a shower.  
After what she'd seen and gone through, it doesn't sound so impossible.

"I'm not entirely sure when they brought me out. I've always looked like this. Probably around twenty if you count the development time."

He snorts in amusement at her shocked face, playing with the cuff of his rumpled shirt.

A bellow and a crash startle them both, even the boxes flinch at the ensuing roar and sounds of fighting.

"He's here." Allison whispers, voice trembling.

Two loud, successive bangs swallow Bishop's reply. He shakily gets up, propping himself on the wall for leverage as the animals go wild inside their cages at the racket just a few feet away. She can see bumps forming at the top and sides.

Undeniably human screams fill the air and she curls back up, hugging her kees.

The noises stop and the silence is worse.

The Hunter finally enters. He is a bloody mess now, splattered in red and some fluorescen green patches that ooze, holding a hand across his side as he shuffles in, breathing heavily.

She closes her eyes for a moment in respect to James and his people. They must have fought well to have wounded him so.

"To the victor go the spoils, is that it?" Bishop's tone is challenging, voice clearing of that sick, phlegmy quality with each word.

The hunter rumbles behind his mask, giving the man a once-over and dismissing him with a huff.

"Don't look away from me!" he demands, stepping forward and away from the boxes like he means to fight.  
Whatever is in there has stopped moving as though the animals recognize the superior being and wish to avoid detection.

The hunter shakes his head with a chuff, the bone and metal decorations on his tresses clinking together like some giant rattlesnake tail. He straigthens and advances, grabbing Bishop by the neck and lifting him several feet in the air like he weighs nothing.

He doesn't see the injured James crawling on the ground behind him. The man shoots, hitting the hunter right in the weakly armored upper calf.

The hunter roars and drops Bishop, turning as his knee buckles beneath him to awkwardly throw three knives from the bandolier strapped over his chest at James. Two miss, but one of them embeds in his forearm, making him drop his gun with a grunt of pain as he rolls back out.

The hunter gets up to follow his quary, grumbling and clicking in anger.

"I'm not done with you!" Bishop yells and presses on something small and gray in his right hand.

The boxes groan and screech as the horizontally closing doors clang open.  
The smell gets worse, stiging her nose, and immediately draws the hunter's attention.

The beasts leap, sceeching and howling at the the hunter, tearing at him with their dark claws and talons, his momentary weakness having given them the perfect opportunity to strike.

Allison is standing, hands gripping the bars of her cage, and watches as fresh fluorescent blood splatters the floor and the animals.

The creatures move too fast for her to get a good look at them. Three of them remind her of dogs by the shape of their legs - digitigrade quatrupeds that mostly attack with their sharp teeth, while the other two are bird-like, but bigger than any ostrich she has ever seen and with a much shorter neck.

The hunter yells in pain as he is mauled by the dark creatures, slashing out with his dahk'te.

Snarls and growls suffused the air as the vicious fight unfolds. For a little while, Allison entertained the small hope that the creatures would tear him apart. But the hunter roars and throws the black things off him in an explosion of motion.  
The creatures whine and hiss as they are beaten back, one by one. Their numbers are an advantage but the hunter is obviously used to fighting multiple opponents at once, deftly sidestepping out of the range of snapping jaws as he regains his footing.

Before the seed of hope has a chance to grow, the hunter stabs one of the black dog-like things through the head with his blades. The movement reminds her of how he had attempted the same tactic on Spike and she curses him.  
With one of their own down and bleeding slowly from the cranium, yellow-green blood bubbling and fizzing on the floor, the other animals back off and whine, scattering to the sides.  
The hunter lands a deep score in another chitinous dog's side with his sharp blades and the animals begin to circle the warrior, keeping their distance from his lunges.  
It is uncanny to see them trying to work together, the ones in front distracting him while the other two move behind him to nip at his heels or scratch at his more exposed calves.

Bishop is leaning on one of the cages, hair ruffled, clothes rumpled and ripped in places and breathing hard through his mouth. He is just far enough away do duck behind the chunky cage when a stray splash of corrosive blood is thrown his way.

"Let me out!" Allison pleads. This is her one chance to escape. Her one chance at life. "I can help take him down!"  
That wasn't strictly true, even a wounded and tired hunter could defeat her, the bathroom incident with Hulk proved that, and this guy had an evil streak - but Bishop didn't need to know that.

Another one of the animals dies with a horrible wail as it is impaled through the chest, one of the bird-like creatures. It is immediately followed by another of the canines that tries to take advantage of the hunter's distraction, only to be decapitated on his upwards swing.

The remaining two creatures hiss and screech in protest, backing away from the hunter as he raises to his feet and slowly stalks toward then. 

They look scared.

He laughs, tired but triumphant and the creatures scatter around him, trying to escape now that they are defetead.

Bishop only hesitates for a second, planting his hand on the scanner next to the cage's door to finally let her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> sivk'va-tai = plasma caster
> 
> Mesh'in'ga = the battle dreamtime/battle meditation
> 
> thwei = blood
> 
> je'mar = artificial being/android
> 
> dah'kte = gauntlet blades
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> Hello! It's me! Cyberpunk is eating my time now but I managed to edit this (finally).
> 
> I hope you liked Bishop's thing here.
> 
> Happy holidays!


	26. Blood on the ceiling

Any other time he might have enjoyed battling the lesser hardmeats. Now they are a dangerous annoyance on his path to success.

He cuts at the spindly legs of the bipedal flightless avian-like creature, neatly severing its right one and sending it crashing to the acid-splattered ground.  
Even their blood is not as corrosive as it should be, proving they are only cheap immitations made by stupid, greedy primitives meddling in matters beyond their comprehension.

Kuj’hade grabs it by the neck and decapitares it to stop its flailing. Some of the blood spilling from its severed stump has splashed onto the armor of his thigh and he can feel a slight burn underneath. Trickles of it had likely seeped beneath through the various damage the veritanium plates had already sustained.

The last canine, already wounded by two long slashes over its right flank, faces him, backing away with small steps.

He feels a presence to his left just in time to bring his forearm up and block a strike to the side of his head.  
None other than his slippery little prey is trying to batter him with an old ceremonial spear.

Kuj'hade almost laughs, but his insides ache too much.

He yowls as the canine bites into his armored shin, the same leg already weakened by the other primitive, mouth just wide enough that the sharp eyeteeth perforate the meat of his leg at the edges of the tough metallic plating.

The little worm siezes the moment and sweeps the injured leg from under him with the ceremonial spear, following the move with a surprisingly skillful downward smash to his head.  
The spear clangs off his mask, denting the metal with the force of it but she is not stong enough to do more than disorient him.  
His vision clears soon after and he manages to kick the attacking hardmeat back from its lunge at his throat. The failed serpent goes flying, smacking into the farwall next to the sickly ooman with a yelp and crashing to the ground, unmoving.

Kuj'hade roars his ire, upright once more, lunging for his prey who jumps back just in time to avoid his grabbing hand. She clumsily blocks another blow and manages to land two more hits to his abdomen before he grips the spear and snatches it up, dragging the persistent little pest with it.  
He knees her in the gut and she doubles over in pain with a breathless grunt, crumpling to the ground in a heap.  
The next hit is meant to knock her out for easy transport but something hits the back of his head and neck hard enough to see stars blooming.

Kuj'hade teeters to the side on unsteady legs, catching himself on the wall, clawing at it to remain standing.

Another primitive has appeared, it is clothed in bulky, protective gear that hide its lifesigns from his mask's scanners but he cathces glimpses of its heated, screaming face as it swings the cool tube at him again.  
Kuj'hade reflexively brings his arm up to protect his head, dah'kte puncturing the strange cilindrical-shaped weapon.

Cold sprays his front as the pressurized gasses inside bursts out all at once in a small explosion, sending the puny attacker back, blinding his mask's sensors and blocking his filters with poison. Enraged and chocking on something bitter that dries his mouth instantly, Kuj'hade tears his mask off.

The natural air is heavy and unpleasantly tasting but it is better than whatver that substance was. He takes a few deep breaths and stalks towards the new foe.

The little thing is still disoriended, crawling away and coughing into its fist. He hesitates for a moment, its blurry form is small enough to remind him of younglings. Its stature is diminutive even by ooman standards.  
But it had attacked him and he must retaliate, even if these savages send their children to fight.

He brandishes his blades, best to take the threat out now before it can rise and make trouble again.

"No!" his prey has awoken and latches onto his injured leg, slowing him down. 

He slaps her off, pleased at the splatter of hot blood gushing from the protuberant nasal canals, and swings his blades down at his new foe.

Another body slams into him from the left, catching him off guard and unbalancing him.

Kuj'hade grabs it by a thin arm as they both go down. He snaps it, taking some satisfaction from the scream of pain, then stabs it through the chest, raising the feeble, trembling body of the sickly ooman off him as its lifeblood pours down his forearm.  
It wheezes and clutches at his wrist, blunt nails stratching at his hide uselessly as it curses and spits a glob of foul blood at his face.

Kuj'hade growls in disgust and shakes his head. The ill primitive is still mumbling curses as it slowly dies.

A distasteful kill, but necessary since it had involved itself in the fight. He lets the still breathing thing slide off his blades with a pitiful whimper.

He huffs in exasperation at the shrill cry near him, turning to see yet another ooman has appeared, one he has fought before and thought dead, still and bleeding in the arms of the child-sized one.

\----------

Robin's sobs send shudders of relief through her body. If the nurse is crying then they must be alive.

Allison groans where she is curled up on the floor. Her insides feel like hell and her face is a throbbing mess. The bastard held back just enough not to kill her. She coughs and spits blood, trying to push up on one elbow but unsure which way 'up' actually was.

He must have cracked at least one rib. Moving hurts.  
Breathing hurts.

Her nose is clogged with blood too, forcing her to take shallow breaths through her mouth.

She was still weak from her injuries and the stress of the last few days, but he was worse off and she still couldn't beat him.  
Tears of frustration and pain wet the corners of her eyes as she coughs feebly while getting up groggily.

The hunter, bleeding neon green from his many injuries and clicking in anger has Bishop hanging from his wristblades.

She can hear the not-old man muttering curses even as he is discarded like trash. She tries to crawl to him but Robin's piercing cry of anguish draws her back.

The little nurse is clutching a body to her, crying and howling like some wounded animal. It takes Allison a second to recognize James' ruffled hair and pallid face under them. His shirt is almost all red, two slashes on his back still gushing blood as Robin franticay tries to apply pressure.

The hunter turns on them, head tilted in that almost innocently puzzled way.  
His blades, dripping with Bishop's blood and countless' others, hang at his side as he considers the two humans.

She crawls closer, first on her hands and elbows, then on all fours, and tries to speak but her voice is weak and ragged, coming out in a pathetic wheeze.

His scarred, misshapen left hand, missing the first two phalanges of his pinky and the claw of his ring finger - courtesy of Spike, twitches forward, blades shining wetly.

<<… yin'tekai-m'di.>> she manages to whisper hoarsely.

The hunter growls and glances back at her with a start, dark tresses fanning out behind him with the sudden the motion.

Robin begins to drag James' body away, still sniffling but wise enough not to draw any more attention to themselves.

Allison is powerless to stop the big man as he grabs her by the arm and hoists her up, bringing her face close to his own.  
One hateful orange eye scans over her injuries as she yelps weakly, trying to clutch at the side with the cracked rib with her free hand.

He drops her unceremoniously once he is satisfied she is not in any mortal danger. She wonders if they can somehow detect internal bleeding and feels a small measure of relief and aprehension at knowing she will survive despite the pain. He obviously still wants her alive for whatever reason.

She watches the hunter limp away, first investigating the motionless Bishop, whoose body is eerily still and has stopped bleeding, then to the body of the nearest dark creature.

Allison surveys the room, the spear she'd tried to fight him with was poking out of a pile of turned over equipment, probably thrown away in the scuffle.

Robin has already dragged James out of the room, she can hear them struggling down the hallway.

The hunter is busy fiddling with something on his belt as she crawls sideways, trying to be stealthy. She pauses as he takes out a small gray tube and punches down with it into the hide at his neck, just benearh the tight coils guarding it. He hisses in protest and drops it with a flick of his wrist after the contents enters his bloodstream.  
The change is almost immediate as his body shudders and he grabs the wall for support. The open wounds and bullet holes stop weeping fluorescent blood and unless her eyes are playing tricks on her some of the smaller scratches even start to close over, knitting back together slowly but surely.

It's not long before he can stand on his own and then reaches for the medi-pack again to produce a small vial of something blue.  
With a last shake of his mane, he lets a few drops fall on the nearest serpent's carcass.   
The body fizzles and dizzolves in mere seconds, the substance working its way outwards from the point of contact, turning the dead beast into a pile of slimy goop right before her eyes.

The hunter moves on and repeats the action with the next body, kicking the severed parts into the corrosive stuff while it still fizzes.

Curiously, the acid, or whatever it is, doesn't eat through the floor, reacting only to the organic body of the creatures and leaving behind a gelatinous, blueish puddle.

He moves onto the last of the creatures, the one she worked together with to try and bring the hunter down.  
She had been surprised when the thing had jumped in to help her. Even moreso at herself for working with it.  
She'd never imagined teaming up with a hardmeat was an option, or that what was supposedly an animal understood the meaning of alliances to defeat a common foe.

She wondered what would have happened if they'd succeeded. Somehow Allison doubted the thing would keep their temporary truce.

He shoves a table out of his way, uncovering the canine's body from where it had fallen and clicking tiredly. Before he had a chance to upturn the vial of blue liquid over it, the thing burst into movement and rammed its head into his legs, toppling him over and making him drop the lethal substance as he fell.

In stead of fighting the hunter again, the creature bolted to the exit as fast as it could, trailing fine drops of acid behind it from the cuts on its side.

The hunter roars and makes to follow, falling to his knee unexpectedly. The back of his knee hasn't stopped bleeding yet and his limp looks painful as he pushes himself up. He can't follow the beast.

Allison watches, unbelieving, as he chuffs in dismissal. He's going let it go.

"You can't... you have to kill it!" she pleads. Hulk had told her a little about the creatures while he'd trained her in transit. She'd known the things were bad news from that fateful night her life had been turned upside down and one had almost killed her, but their parasitic, highly prolific nature would be a death-sentence to the whole continent. It was one of the reasons why the things were used as a test for young hunters, they could reproduce and mature very quickly.  
Bishop and everyone down here were fools for having messed with them.

The warrior huffs at her as he activates his gauntlet computer and presses a few buttons, then drops the beeping thing to the ground carelessly.  
He limps up to her and grabs her by an arm again, dragging her behind him to get the spear and using it as a walking stick.

"What are you _doing_?!" she asks, trying to keep up with his long strides on her own.

<<Kainde-amedha ik'kya! Kv'var!>> she clicks and growls in the harsh tongue Hulk had taught her, her nose still stuffy with blood, making her stumble over the words even more.

He ignores her, tugging a little harder, outpacing her even with the injured leg.

<<S'yuit-de...>> the insult is barely out when he turns and backhands her across the mouth, sending her crashing to the ground and wrenching her head sideways.

She can't hear her own trembling moans and sounds of pain through the ringing in her ears. Her head feels like its underwater and her vision fuzzes at the edges whenever she blinks.  
She spits a mouthfull of blood and something small and whitish like a pebble. He'd knocked a molar out.

Probing with her tongue, she can feel a few others moving and the sore hole where her tooth is missing. It's disconcertingly deep with flaps of loose gum folding inward.   
More blood falls from her mouth in viscous threads mixed with saliva. She's never wanted to kill anyone so badly. 

The hunter chitters an evil laugh and picks her up by the arm again. She follows obediently this time as he pushes her along in front of him, poking her with the spear whenever she slows down or stumbles.

Her head is still throbbing as she moves and tries to keep a steady pace, each step jarring her insides and the wound in her mouth with a new wave of pain.

The asshole scoffs as they get colse to two white-splattered bodies. She can only recognize them as the freaky twins by their shredded clothes. A severed head lays sideways, mouth flapping open and closed slowly as the unnaturally blue eyes follow their movement, one half-lidded and drowsy and the other blinking erratically.  
The cables and metallic pieces sticking out of of their broken bodies, still oozing white liquid, look unreal. Like bad movie props.

She is too awed to question the strange sight and the hunter gives her no opportunity either way.

Robin is nowhere in sight once they exit into the main laboratory.

Her stay here hasn't been exacly pleasant, but she still hopes the two have made it out somehow. And that the mutated creature doesn't find them first...

There is no sign of it either and her new captor seems completely unconcerned by the fact.

She tries to avoid looking at James' dead soldiers on the ground but still needs to watch where she's stepping to avoid tripping over stray body parts.   
The smell of blood is overwhelming. She does her best to take quick, shallow breaths through her mouth, but then she can taste it and she clamps up and holds her breath for as long as she can.

Some men are hacked to pieces, others just look like _meat_.  
Blood sticks to her boots and she leaves an uneven trail behind her.

The hallway beyond the heavy hospital doors is worse.

The stench alone makes her gag. There is no escaping it and she can't not breathe forever.

Bitterness floods her mouth and she covers her nose, wincing at the fresh sting of pain from her missing tooth.

She picks her way across the massacre.  
How many soldiers had been guarding the inside of the X-wing? She'd seen them at the reinforced metal door when she still thought it was Hulk coming after her but the amount of blood splashed everywhere made it look like the sadistic fuck had painted the walls with an army's worth of blood and innards.

Allison slips on a congealing pool of blood and falls. She braces a hand in front to cach herself and crushes into someone's small intestines.  
The smell. It's too much.   
Too much blood and ichor and everything else that makes up a human. 

Too much death.

She can't help it. She vomits.

There isn't anything but water and bile for her to thow up. The nausea is so bad she can't even keep her balance and almost slips again while heaving her stomach out.

A scaly hand grabs her by the back of the shirt and drags her back up, clicking and swearing impatiently.

She will get no mercy from him. No quarter or pause in which to compose herself.  
He drags her through the slaughter, down the corridors flooded with blood and across the smoke-filled halls then up the elevator shaft, climbing one-handed while she dangles from his solid grip.

She almost slips out of her shirt but they reach the top before she can let herself fall.

Her body trembles with frisons born of shock and the biting cold of the outside winter.

The monster must notice her core temperature falling for the next thing she knows, a too-large, blood stayned coat is thrown at her head.

Perhaps it is a trivial thing after all that she has witnessed, but Allison screams at the severed hand that falls out of the sleeve.

\----------

No creature stirs as the foreign things battle for dominance in the loose soil.

The warriors grunt and growl, bellow and hiss at each other as they fight, both bloodied and caked in cold mud.  
Hul'gkan has sustained a number of new injuries, none are lethal, but his ic'jit brother has finally learned how to wear his opponents down in stead of tire himself out in a quick, decisive attack.

That, or the hothead enjoys hurting him slowly.

Akr'dtai slips to the side and slashes across his back, the scratches aren't deep, but they ache.

He retaliates by twisting and dropping to sweep his combistick over his brother's legs, tripping him up and jumping back to regain some distance.   
Akr'dtai used to be most dangerous up close and his skills have improved over his time as an outlaw.  
It vexes Hul'gkan to be outmaneuvered by someone who he'd seen as almost his equal.  
Being beaten by an Elder is one thing, losing to the man who'd caused no small amout of turmoil to his life out of spite for wasting his own was quite another.

He parries a stike, batting it aside with his stave, then is forced to retreat when Akr'dtai spins with the motion and kneels to cut at his thighs.

<<Running away, brother?!>> the ic'jit taunts, following after him with a lunge that manages to score another scratch on him.

Hul'gkan weaves between trees, trying to stay just a step beyond the other man's reach while the latter laughs excitedly.

<<I always knew you were a coward!>> he yells.

Hul'gkan hops up a sharp series of rocky ledges, gaining momentum to launch himself up a nearby tree and swinging to the branch of another on trembling arms.  
He is so tired he almost misses the landing, slipping on the frosted bark, and eliciting more mocking laughter from his enemy.

<<Always waiting for the right moment to strike, fleeing when you fear yourself bested and striking from the shadows! Ha! Where will you run now?!>> Akr'dtai sounds close enough to act but clearly enjoys toying with him in stead. His brother had always liked gloating. It might be his only chance to turn this aroud.

<<And so proud of it too. Just because that _old fool_ approved!>>

He climbs higher, using the bending trunks to leap from one thinning tree-top to another, making the snow dusting the needle-like leaves to puff out in great clowds with the violent recoil.

The sounds of pursuit dim as he gains some distance. He slows down and stops disrupting the environment to bury his trail, crawling up the incline behind a grouping of jagged rocks.

A heavy mass crashes into him from behind and they go rolling downhill, scrabbling for dominance, both using any dirty tricks they know to get the upper hand.

Their fight takes them off another ledge and he manages to twist mid-air, leveling himself on top as Akr'dtai hits the frozen forest floor hard on his back.

Both wariors are winded, he can hear his brother groaning and coughing beside him as he stumbles off but the sound echoes strangely with his own wheezing. He cannot seem to catch his breath.

<<Caught you... Hah... Where... can you run now...?>> the Badblood grunts. Hul'gkan can't even muster the energy to curse the persistent fool.

Wounded and tired, both hunters attempt to regain their footing, tripping in the snow over hidden rocks like newborn foals.   
The fight isn't over. It won't be unless one of them dies.  
Despite their many differences the two always did have one thing in common, both were stubborn to a fault.

A shrill scream pierces through the whistling wind, drawing both their gazes towards the peak of the mountain.

A memory spings forth unbeckoned.   
He knows this place.   
Survival, fleeing and his fight have dominated his thoughts, but the hidden entrance to the buried proving grounds was in that direction.  
And he knows the voice too...

He cannot waste any more time.

<<Help me retrieve my companion and I will give you Iktaha'rg's last heading.>> Hul'gkan pleads. His brother may be a hardheaded, hotblooded menace but he is no fool.   
He can see the doubt in the other man's posture and the intrigue in the tilt of his head.

<<An Elder's life for a hound? How selfish of you, brother...>>

<<Not a - _nrrhh_ , do you accept the pledge?!>>

Akr'dtai pauses to consider the offer, taking his time even as Hul'gkan growls in worry and impatience.

<<I accept.>>

<<And you will allow us passage unobstructed once the terms are met?>> he asks, just in case the ass tries to use semantics to kill him or Ah-lee anyway.

<<You have my word of Honor, brother.>>

He abstains from the biting remark just at the tip of his tusks about what his brother's 'word of Honor' is worth. His and any other badblood's.  
But he has no choice but to grit his teeth and nod despite the doubt gnawing at his gut.  
It would be pointless to taunt the man too, honorable or not he still needs the help to have a fraction of a chance.

The Ic'jit senses his distate and chuckles behind his cracked old mask as they begin the hunt.

He prays to Paya for little Ah-lee, beseeching her for the blessing of life one would ask to preserve a youngling - just a little longer.

He hopes he is not too late and that he has not gambled her life away on a false promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> yin'tekai-m'di = honorless
> 
> Kainde-amedha ik'kya! Kv'var! = Hardmeat disease/infection! Hunt!
> 
> S'yuit-de = coward/pathetic  
> \---
> 
> A/N  
> Hi!
> 
> I thought hitting Destroyer with a fire extinguisher would have been funny so there ya have it.
> 
> I didn't spend too much time editing this (ironic, considering how late it is, I know) so forgive me if it's a little wonky.


	27. The Way

They left a trail of red stained snow behind them as the jungle hunter forced her to descend a few ledges and skid down an incline.  
She was so drained he'd actually had to pick her up whenever she slipped and fell to the cold, hard ground.  
Still, she was grateful he wasn't in the mood to carry her like a sack of grain and start running.   
His wounded leg still bled bright green, slowing him down enough that she could keep up without angering the volatile hunter too much.

They trudged along like this for a while, her trembling and staggering every few feet, him limping a couple of steps behind and occasionally prodding her with the spear or roughly pulling her upright when he'd get impatient.

The sun, a distant, heatless spark in the sky, brightens and wanes before they reach a small clearing almost at the bottom of the mountain - their apparent destination.

The hunter orders her to stop with a curt clicking noise. She turns to see him staring back and up towards the peak, then press something on the gauntlet computer of his other arm.

There is nothing for a few seconds, then flocks of birds suddenly fly off from all over in a flurry of panic, filling the air around the mountain with a myriad of dark spots.   
Echoed screeches reverberate down, sending tingles up her spine.

Then she feels it.

Something like the deep bass beat of concert speakers, except here it feels as though the source is right beneath her feet and the wave of deafening vibration passes through her so violently it distorts her vision and steals her breath.  
Her insides quiver and she feels sick, like someone is trying to turn her inside-out.  
Her head is spinning.

She is too disoriented to recognize the rumbling beneath her feet.

The forest groans like some mythical whale and the trees sway and lean, some breaking with loud, splintering snaps.  
Allison falls to her knees just as a strong gust of wind hits her front and gets thrown with the force of it, rolling backwards.  
Even the hunter fights against being blown away, leaning forward on his good leg and blocking the buffeting winds with his forearms to protect his face, tresses fluttering like fistfulls of squirming, black snakes.

The rumbling gets louder as the earthquake violently shakes the ground. The mountain is lit by a sudden flash of bright light coming from great cracks along its top half. 

The peak caves in on itself.

Avalanches are swallowed by crumbling rock, part of the mountain falling inwards in stead of tumbling downhill.

She's never seen destruction on this scale before. It looks as though a great fist has flattened the top, leaving behind a heap of earth and rock and broken forest.

The hunter turns as the earthquake subsides, passing by her as she continues to stare helplessly at the ongoing disaster.

She hears a subtle warble and the hiss of a space vessel's airlock opening.   
Her time here is over.

Something whistles through the air above her head and lands with a loud thunk in the fuselage.   
The hunter had evaded the spear meant for his back, although she doubts it would have killed him with that armor.

Two figures come running from the forest, one lagging behind. A breath of relief rushes through her at the latter's recognizable form.

"You're alive." she whispers, still kneeling on the ground, her tongue sliding over the missing tooth painfully.

A colorful figure, dark orange and larger than her alien, rushes by her to tackle the irate jungle hunter.

Hulk, beaten and bloody and gloriously alive only slows enough to look her over before joining the fray alongside the new arrival with a challenging roar.

They fight together, their movements flowing into each other. As one slashes and dodges, the other comes up from behind to pick up the slack. Keep the pressure on.

The older alien, even partly crippled, is still a force to be reckoned with while Hulk and his friend aren't in the best shape either.  
None of them are really fit for a fight, each sporting gruesome wounds and moving more tiredly than normal.

She watches the savage display for a few tense breaths, there is almost a desperate rhythm to their movements like it's some deadly, brutal dance. She keeps track of it, tapping her finger along, trying to understand how it all fits together.

Every time one of them falters in a step or misses a beat they get injured and the pattern changes as each party tries to recover or take advantage of the mistake.

Bright blood flies from each fighter as they injure each other with near misses.

The jungle hunter's intricate armor is a clear advantage as it covers more of him that either of the other two combined are wearing. He can afford to take more extra hits in the metal covering his limbs and torso than them and slip under their guard to deliver quick, punishing jabs with his wristblades.  
But it comes with cost. He is less agile than the other two, who weave in and out of combat like water around a heavy boulder, as though they can read each other's minds and know exactly when and how to move.

The Arbitrator feints twice and pushes into the new guy, who overbalances and elbows Hulk in the chest.

He loses his footing on the slippery ground after a hard kick and escapes dismemberment by a hairsbreadth, the newcomer bumrushing their foe and jostling him hard enough that the swipe misses and only leaves a nasty scratch on his thigh.

The two go down in a mess of snarls and tangled limbs, wrestling in the cold mud. Soon the older alien has Hulk's friend in a headlock, preparing to break his neck as the smaller one struggles to break free.

Hulk smashes both fists in the big man's back, giving his ally the opportunity to slip free and proceed to kick their opponent to the ground.  
Another well placed stomp from Hulk has the armored alien panting and groaning as he tries to roll away unsuccessfully.  
Hulk continues beating down on him, viciously punching him in his exposed face and the weak spots at the sides of his armor. 

  
Perhaps it is wrong of her, but she feels the warmth of satisfaction seeping into her bones with the Arbitrator's every pained grunt and pitiful attempt to crawl away.  
She hopes Hulk knocks _all_ his teeth out.

It goes on and on until the jungle hunter can only twitch and Hulk needs to stop to catch his breath.

She can't believe her eyes. They've won. They've brought the monster down. 

The colorful hunter raises his double wristblades to finish the big one off but is stopped by Hulk's forearm blocking his downward plunge.

The two exchange heated clicks and growls she can't quite understand while pushing each other in aggression.

It hits her that maybe the newcomer isn't actually a friend. The gear he's wearing is mismatched, visibly old and showing a lot of wear and tear that has obviously been repaired more than once.   
She can't remember ever seeing any of the hunter aliens wearing anything quite so damaged. Scratches and dents weren't uncommon, but this guy looked more like the alien version of a hobo than anything.  
A half naked, incredibly strong and dangerous one, but still kind of shabby.  
She'd learned not to trust any of them, least of all one who had something to gain.

With the other two distracted, the jungle hunter begins to squirm. She doesn't notice him at first, too absorbed in attempting to understand the bickering younger men.  
Moving slowly as an attempt at stealth, or simply because he is too damaged, the Arbitrator takes the opportunity to squirm away and reach for the plasma caster strapped to his back, managing to summon ominous crackles of electricity up his left shoulder and disengaging the locking mechanism that releases it from its protective casing for one last ditch effort to blow everyone up. 

Fortunately Hulk is still alert and kicks the weapon out of his trembling hand then throws himself back, taking his ally down with him just as she croaks a warning.

The gun goes sailing and she covers her face to protech her eyes from the bright explosion that leaves a shallow smoking crater the size of an average car barely two dozen feet from the group of alines. By some miracle, the jungle hunter is only a little scorced and still somewhat alive. Cursing, Hulk kicks the man in the face with a displeased and tired growl effectively knocking him out.

It feels strangely anticlimactic - after all the lives he's taken and all the destruction he's wrought. 

She wanted to see him suffer and die.

She _still_ wants revenge.  
Could she take it now? Neither of the two would expect it of her.

Her legs and especially her feet don't quite work right as she tries to stand, stumbling and falling hard back on her knees like she weighs ten times as much as normal.  
She tries again, slower this time, as the two continue their clicking and growling, less aggressively this time.

\---------- 

<<You will regret not ending this threat. He will hunt us both one day.>> Akr'dtai warns, shaking his head in disapointment.

<<I will regret killing him more.>> Hul'gkan replies, grunting at the discomfort as the broken bones in his torso shift. No one killed and Arbitrator and got away with it. Not even in the beyond.  
Cetanu did not take kindly to having the subjects of his talons, the Ancients whom he worked through, prematurely removed.

<<Fear exile? There is room in my clan... we lack aseigan.>> the ic'jit taunts.

Hul'gkan kicks the man's shin as he walks away, it is weak and more out of spite than anything but it feels good to hear the squak of protest. He limps away, picking up his ki'cti-pa from where it is embedded in the ramp and using it as support for his twisted ankle.

He contemplates the shivering form staring at him from actoss the small clearing while catching his breath, scanning her for wounds as she fails to walk and eventually gives up trying.   
Akr'dtai, having already pilfered some of the Arbitrator's belongings, steps up beside him.

<<All this for a half-dead ape... Why?>>

He growls in response, showing the man his back and leaving him behind again. The ic'jit is wise enough not to follow this time.

Her lack of reaction to his approach is worrysome. He's used to seeing her animated, always twitching or moving like some flighty bird, ready to jump at the first hint of danger. She had calmed in his presence somewhat recently, but never so... listless.

It reminds him of the first time he'd stumbled upon this stubborn little creature. Back when he was not aware of her full worth and looked down at her shivering, shocked form as he slay the hardmeat. 

Now she simply looks resigned.

Unlike the past he stops in front of her and slowly goes to one knee, groaning at the pulsing pains all over his body and trying not to move his broken ribs too much.

They regard each other silently for a few breaths, neither making any sudden moves, then he offers his hand, palm up.

She hesitates, pushing herself into a crouching position first to be closer to eye-level, then rises on her own unsteadily.

"What happens now..." she asks instead, and he lets his palm drop to the ground to better support himself.

<<Hurt.>> he nods at himself then at the Arbitrator's vessle <<Ship. Heal.>>

"After?"

He does not like the steady, defetead tone of her voice, how similar it is to her sadness after the incident with the young baiun. The urge to kill the Arbitrator, dishonorable as ending an unconscious warrior would be, descends upon him even more intensely than when he had seen her again, hurt and cowering as the cursed man laughed at the destruction he had brought to the sacred land he'd trespassed upon.

He knows he stands at a crossroads. His honor, his Debt and his very survival balanced on a razor's edge and hedging on what he will do now.

All this will have been for nothing if he goes back to the clan empty handed. He has not killed an Arbitrator, _yet_ , but his prospects are slim without her acting as witness...  
Then again, without Iktaga'rg to back him up, the odds are not in his favor no matter what.

But to bring her back... wether he is spared at the trial or not, she will likely be taken as collateral. It is obvious someone with a lot of influence wants his little Fire Eyes for purposes unknown.

To let her go would mean certain death right after a dishonorable exile. He would be stricken from clan records, all his accomplishments erased, the reputation of all those who aided him forever tarnished.   
All that he has strived for in life would be blown away like sand in the wind. The blood and effort poured into showing himself worthy - meaningless.  
A swift execution would be the best he could hope for. And he would face it alone.

All the struggle and adversity and hardwon respect would be gone and he would have mattered not at all. 

Hul'gkan weighs his choices, both of which could result in the end of his path. All that he has been taught and led to believe urge him towards the choice that would maintain some honor, even in death, so that he may still join the great hunt beyond.

One glance at the subdued posture confirms that Ah-lee woud not fight him or attempt to run.  
She might be able... if she wished it. Or if she invoked her Debt again. He's too tired to stop her and Akr'dtai has no interest, even if he'd allow it.

He wants to keep her.   
Dearly so.   
Just to avoid facing the consequences alone he would drop to both his knees and _beg_ her to come. To _stay_ with him.  
He has nothing left otherwise. No one would dare support him now. The risk would be too large of getting exiled by association.

He would be a pariah even if he avoided the worst outcome by some miracle.

Who would stand for his character with his mentor dead and only a beaten Arbitrator to show for it? No one would care.

Would _she_?

He raises a moment after her, decision made.  
  
It goes agains his every instinct, everything Iktaha'rg had taught him. Against convention and the deep sense of loyalty to the clan instilled in him from a young age. Against all the teachings of the Code of Honor.

But then again, what honor would he have left otherwise? Not only to settle a Debt, but to make things right.  
He had embroiled her in this mess and he would have to undo it, at least in part.

<<Go.>> he commands, indicating the trees downhill. She's bound to stumble over a primitive settlement eventually.

Ah-lee remains still in front of him, shivering slightly under the too-large garment.

He shifts to balance on his less wounded leg, crouching a little to protect his insides.   
Her fuzzy brow is furrowed in confusion and he stifles a laugh, it aches so much.  
Slowly, Hul'gkan pats her shoulder, shaking her as gently as he can.

<<You are free. Go.>>

Her eyes go wide as she finally understands.

"J-just like that...?"

The hesitation is frustrating, but he nods once to reassure her. A weight settles in the pit of his stomach as the decision fully sinks in. Her continued presence only heightens his anxiety, makes him second guess.   
Does she not realize how difficult it is for him? Why can oomans never do simply as they are told?

He had wanted to watch her leave, solidify the fate he chose in his mind with the image of her back turned to him.   
Hoping that the finality would end the fear roiling in his chest, larger and more chaotic with every breath she delays, by leaving himself no other option. To steel himself for what is to come.  
To feel some measure of relief that there was at least one life he had not _completely_ ruined.

"What about the judgement?" she asks with the same blasted curiosity that he usually found endearing.  
<<Trial.>> she clicks awkwardly to clarify when he doesn't immediately answer.

An inquisitive growl sounds from behind at that. Hul'gkan can practically feel Akr'dtai's eyes boring into his back. The Bad Blood is likely impatient by now, waiting to collect his reward, and worse yet - intrigued.

"You said it was important that I tell the truth."

He glances behind him, pushing at Ah-lee's shoulder to get her moving in case his wayward brother decides to start asking questions.

<<Foolish girl. Just go and be grateful you live.>> he rumbles, pushing her away again.

She mercifully steps back at his more aggressive tone, dirty snow and half-melted ice crunching underfoot.

"What will you do?" she asks with a suspicious tilt of her head.

Aggravating little...

<<The Debt is paid. Is this not your wish? Begone, ooman!>> he hunches over and roars without much conviction. He does not like the hurt in her eyes, but the pain is getting worse, dulling his patience as ire burns up his lungs. It is pathetic and unworthty of him but he wishes to end this as fast as possible, before he becomes too weak to act.

The show of aggression has drawn Akr'dtai closer, his presence annoying Hul'gkan further. He sees Ah-lee stiffen instinctively at the strangers approach.

<<You pay a primitive before me, brother? Why does this soft thing deserve your Debt?>>

Things are getting out of hand. The lack of control, especially now at the end he was supposed to have chosen, brings his blood to a boil and he lashes out with his spear, making them both jump back.

<<Enough!>> his yell echoes up the remains of the mountain.  
The fire in her eyes has returned, fear igniting her spirit once more. It is a hundred, no - a thousand times better than seeing that emptiness. He's glimpsed it one time too many, after the experiments and now again because of the Arbitrator.

He refuses to witness it any longer.

Let her hate him and survive. If that is the price he must pay, then so be it.  
<<S'yuitde pyode'amedha... suy'te.>> he grounds out with as much malice and disdain as he can muster.  
Judging by her guarded flinch he can see that his words have had the desired effect.

Finally, Ah-lee takes the last few steps away from him, then tuns and slides downhill. He watches her go untill she disappears among the trees.

Akr'dtai slinks closer with a curious burr, reminding him of his promise. It shames him to have to stoop so low as to make an agreement with an ic'jit, but a deal is a deal and he has delayed the reward too much already.  
He hopes Iktaha'rg's remains have been consumed by the fire that had destroyed the old vessel. It is the kindest and least dishonorable fate he can hope for.  
Whatever his disgraced brother wants with the Elder will be irrelevant. There is nothing he can do to make matters any worse than they already are.  
So with one last pained huff, he turns to his mei'hswei and brings his computer up.

<<Here is your reward, ic'jit.>> he opens the interface on his gauntlet, then sends the last week's worth of location and whatever navigational data from the downed ship remains recorded on it on a shortband transmision to the other man's inferior computer model.

Akr'dtai is blessedly silent as the transfer progresses, staring at the streaming data and already scrolling through some of the geolocation information with an unexpectedly solemn demeanor.

Hul'gkan uses the time to compose himself, get his ragged breathing in check and begin to calm his thunderous temper.  
He will face the end on his terms, no one else's. That is the one promise to his Elder, a boast during his chiva really, he can keep.

<<What _will_ you do?>> the ic'jit clicks slowly, not raising his eye-plates from the algorythm working on the felled ship's last known trajectory.

He doesn't wish to answer. Not truthfully. Akr'dtai might suggest joining the exiles again and he does not know of he is strong enough to refuse it.  
There cannot be life or death without honor, not for him. When stripped of the possibility of the first, he can only achieve the latter. 

<<What I must.>> Hul'gkan concedes in the end. Let these be his last words. A truth that he won't regret saying. Something to contrast the ugly lie he'd said to little Fire Eyes.

The ic'jit breaks his focus on the compiling data for a moment to give him one last nod of farewell before he turns and leaves Hul'gkan alone with the consequences of his actions.

\----------

Her ankle must be sprained, it hurts like a bitch to wade her way through the dwindling forest. The temperature has gone down too, she shivers in her stolen coat and imagines a warm fire waiting for her at the bottom of the mountain.

Allison slips on a slick rock and takes a tumble. She's learned how to fall well enough that once she rights herself nothing hurts any more that it did already but she still feels like an idiot for not paying attention.   
Maybe the asshole is right and she really is just a pathetic, stupid weakling. Incapable of saving herself, let alone anyone else.  
Unable to even run away when the opportunity presents itself, like some abused dog waiting for its master to command it to act.

  
She might as well go find a vet to treat her wounds. Maybe she can convince someone to help her remove the tracking device too. Get the hell off the alien's radar and then slip the police before the men in black show up again.

All this time she'd dreamed of freedom only to hesitate when she should have been running for the hills the moment nobody was paying attention to her.

She curses that bastard for his parting words, hating him more than ever for the insults.  
She had thought they were over this. Over his superior attitude and arrogance. For a little while she'd actually been fooled into believing he might have even respected her.  
Perhaps not quite as an equal in his culture, their social castes were too rigid for her to fit in as anything other than less of a person, but at least as a... _friend_... outside of it.

Up until the jungle hunter had blown up the mountain, she had been hoping for his miraculous return, and after it for a quick death for them both.   
It turned out that she got her first wish, with considerable delay.

So much for for 'foolish but never stupid'.

He'd been right about one thing - she had been a fool to ever believe someone like him would ever accept her. That he would give a damn. 

The only thing he'd ever cared about was his dumb honor. He just wanted to get rid of his stupid Debt to her to be free to return to his old life with the rest of the _fuckers_ like him...

Doubt began to creep up the back of her neck, or maybe it was just some stray snow that had gotten loose and fell under the collar of the big, bloodstained coat, but when she stopped moving long enough to consider the possibility of having been tricked in the most assbackwards way - a hushed rumbling could be heard above the trees.

She knows that noise. A gentle humming, more vibration that is felt than audible sound. A steady warble that had accompanied their every journey through space.   
An alien ship.

No.  
Several. The tones overlapping at slightly different pitches, making her ears pop with the change in atmospheric pressure from their strange engines.

Had he known they were coming and sent her away?  
The realization brings panic flooding her thoughts, but another worry beats her sense of self preservation down just enought to stay grounded and not run for her life. 

The jungle hunter would have killed Hulk and his friend, had he won. The aliens coming now would likely finish him off. 

Why hadn't he come with her?

Feeling half mad and swearing at her own ignorance, Allison turns on her heel and dashes back up the faint animal trail, back to an uncertain, dangerous fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annex:
> 
> Ic'jit - BadBlood
> 
> Aseigan - servant
> 
> ki'cti-pa - combistick/spear
> 
> S'yuitde pyode'amedha... suy'te. - Stupid/pathetic softmeat... begone. (derogatory)
> 
> mei'hswei - brother
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N
> 
> Dunno how many of u caught it (been a while) but it felt fitting to have Hulk echo Dr Death with the 'What I must.' quip.
> 
> And don't worry, there's still time for him to beg (in another... setting, mwahaha).
> 
> This arc is pretty much done, I think the next chapter will see the beginning of the trial arc. Hopefully a shorter stint.  
> See you next time!


End file.
